Restoration
by encchick
Summary: What if Wes hadn't died, but had made a decision that would affect everybody? This is that story.
1. Bringing In The Dead

TITLE: Restoration  
DISCLAIMER: I own none of these characters, except for Altyron, and he is a construct from JW's conception. I am simply taking JW and co on their word that we can play with them. I only wish I had them here to play with. Anyhoo, I make no profit from this endeavor, so please leave me and my meager possessions alone. I can't afford to be sued.  
RATING: PG  
SUMMARY: Post AtS S5. The Battle against WR&H, Angel and what is left of his crew get some help and an old friend comes back to play, just in a new face.  
FEEDBACK: Oh pleaseohpleaseohplease!!! My co-author and I are anxious to see what people think about our little story. We think it bloody brilliant, but it all depends on the readers, if you must know. So please, write me back and let me know what you think.  
AN: This is a story of Wesley and Papa Smurf (you'll understand the reference later). My mother and I were distraught over the callousness of Wes' death, and we decided to change a few things. One: he never meant to die, therefore didn't. Two: Ilyria didn't kill Fred so much as Fred finally became Ilyria. Three: Fred's parents knew and expected it to happen. Four: Altyron is a bad ass.

Bringing In The Dead

L.A. May, 2004  
Back Alley

Ilyria jumped down from the roof, meeting Angel and Gunn, with Spike coming slowly down the alley. Her inexpressive face awash in apathy, her voice cold, methodical. "I wish to do more violence."

"Don't worry, pet, you'll get your chance. I'm only ahead of them by a few minutes." Spike spoke as he joined the group.

The ragged crew of formerly seven stood four strong. Angel, Ilyria, Spike, and a badly battered Gunn stood together, marching out into the alleyway, determined to meet the end well in battle.

"The dragon's mine." And the battle raged.

Angel leapt into the air, defying gravity with his vampire legs, securing himself onto the back of the dragon, determined to harness this beast as a weapon for the fray. He hacked heads, arms, legs, chests and backs of demons as he attempted to tame a dragon rivaling the mythic Tiamat. Beset from all sides, his sword flailing and more often than not succeeding in dispatching his enemies, Angel fought; grim, determined, unflinching in the face of pain, unknowing if they could win, but vowing to try.

Spike followed suit, only on the ground. He charged into the line of the demon horde, brandishing well earned bravado and steel. His charged howls ringing in the night, filling out the silences between sword clashes, demonic battle cries, and howls of pain. Caught in the thrall of violence done for good, Spike was a crusader, an unholy warrior for right. His grin glowed feral with the fight, eyes yellow and dangerous, joyous, reveling in the carnage.

Ilyria, a study in ruthless grace as she swatted insignificant demons aside, decapitating them with fists and arms. She paused only to remember her fallen companion. A man dedicated to fighting the good fight, loving, and doing what he thought was the right thing. His loss hurt her more than she cared to admit, and this spot of violence was her catharsis. But no one watching her would ever know. They would never know that Fred inside her mourned, screamed in futile rage and pain within the confines of her possessor. But her pain eked out, soaking Ilyria's essence in grief. And she fought to scour it from her body. It made her strong, accurate, and deadly.

Gunn's badly injured body had done battle once already that night, dispatching a nest of vampires. He was worn out, devastated, and refused to back down due to exhaustion. This was his mission. He was just a human, but his heart beat, and as long as it did he would fight for the good. This made him perseverant. While not as fast or agile as the other three, Gunn knew how to weed them out, fighting only two or three at a time. He had already beaten down six demons, working on the next three to make it nine. Forceful and angry, he swung his axe, dismembering demons as he went. It seemed to be working, from his point of view. He figured they all were doing pretty well considering it was just four of them against a horde of demon scum.

Then they all had a reprieve, as the front line retreated in order to regroup.

"I think we're doing pretty damn good, guys." Gunn said, sounding slightly more hopeful than he should have.

Just then, Angel landed in a heap in front of them. His bruised and beaten body lying limply on the street. The sound of stampeding demons returned, and they all looked up to see the front line of demons regrouped and coming at them from all sides. The evil army had been testing the warriors, determining weakness and uncovered sides. They found them, and returned to the battle with death in their throats, dripping from their battle cries. The ragged band stood strong, back to back, in defensive position. They were ready to die, but were more than willing to take a helluva lot more demons with them.

"Chuck, my man, I think you may have spoken too soon, there mate." Spike answered Gunn's earlier optimism.

Above, on midnight rooftops, unnoticed, a dark one watched, expressionless.

The demons began swinging axes and swords, flailing tentacles and spiny arms in injurious patterns. The seeming haphazard movement threw the gang off and the demons gained an edge. They culled Gunn out first, drawing him out away from Spike and Ilyria, forcing him to fight by himself. He valiantly fought, swinging his axe in an ever constant arc, slicing and dicing his way, he hoped, to freedom outside this nasty group. He knew it was futile, knew no matter what he did, this night was his time to die. Resigning himself to it, he continued his fight, hoping to at least take out as many as he could before he went down.

The new glare blinding him scared him. Great, he thought. Just what we need, a light demon coming to blind us so we'll get picked off that much easier. Suddenly the demon he was fighting fell dead, eyes staring sightlessly into the night sky. Then the demon to his right fell, screaming in belligerent pain, a crossbow bolt protruding from his eye. He died a few seconds later when a sword sliced his head clean off.

"Oh right. The great Charles Gunn gets to go down fighting the biggest fight yet, and doesn't call in his crew to help him? What is the world coming to, Charlie?"

"The end, in case you weren't noticin, Jackson. You gonna kill this bastard behind me, or are you gonna chat me up first? Cuz I'm thinkin, chattin is the least of my worries right now." Gunn replied, fighting off another demon coming upon him.

"Oh don't you worry, we ain't lettin you fight this one alone. One was bad enough." The old crew from the hood, as Gunn liked to call them, jumped down from his old truck, brandishing fresh bodies, attitudes and gleaming clean weapons. Their thirst for vengeance on the demons evident in their readiness. "Let's get this done, gang. Demons to fight, friends to save. It's a good time to be had by all." They began swinging, Gunn with renewed vigor, now that he wasn't fighting alone.

Spike had seen Charles get culled out by the demon horde, but could do nothing, standing with his back to Ilyria over Angel, protecting the wanker until he could revive. He had an idea what the demon army was doing, but as long as Angel lay there, unconscious, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He heard the truck pull in to the fracas, and chanced a glance to make sure Charlie boy was alright. Noticing the new gang of what seemed to be Gunn's friends entering the fray, Spike relaxed into battle. He didn't notice that he was being led away from Angel and Ilyria until he was yards away from them and happened to hear Ilyria laugh joylessly. Upon recognizing that he had indeed been culled, Spike stopped fighting defensively. He cocked his head, looking questioningly at the groups of demons surrounding him. Think you've got me, do ya? He thought. He shook his head, lowered it, looking through his lashes at the demons before him. You don't know me at all.

Spike charged his enemies, running into the line of evil like a berserker. His vampire face forced out by the simple act of aggression in battle, Spike fought with vigor, punching holes in demon faces, breaking arms, taking off heads, and splitting bodies in half with his sword. The element of surprise worked for him for a short while, then the sheer numbers he was up against overwhelmed him. His charge he knew had been futile, suicidal even, but like Charles, he was by God going to take a shitload of demons with him when he went. His fighting slowed with exhaustion, he felt himself backed into a corner, up against a wall, no where to run. As the demons advanced slowly, sensing victory, Spike hung his head, another failed attempt hitting him square in the face. His eyes closed in upcoming death.

"Spike, look to your left, dumbass." The voice inside his head was so sudden, so unexpected, he could not help but obey. There she stood, small, beautiful, powerful, green eyes shining emerald fire, hair catching the last of the moonlight. "Pick up your damn weapon, fangless, we have a job to do here." Again, the voice in his head commanded him and he obeyed. This time however, he answered back, "Red, goddamn but I am glad to see you." As he returned to the fight, he noticed her white hair and the three others standing behind her.

Kennedy and Xander stalked up to his side, slicing demons along the way. They reached Spike's side in a matter of minutes, fighting off demons as they approached. Giles stood with Willow, shooting sparks of borrowed power from his hands into the crowded demonic army. He killed five with just one such spark. Willow stood across the alley, chanting, her white hair flowing in the energy wind. Her power glowing from her body, causing the demons to shrink from her presence, and as she flung them backwards, breaking them over dumpsters and metal bars, she smiled serenely.

Spike said in the midst of battle, "Angel's unconscious and these wankers have pulled me away from him. We need to fight back to him, protect him." His voice was harsh with exertion and concentration.

"I think he's covered there, Spike." Xander answered him and neatly disemboweled the horned creature heading up to his right. "You just keep an eye on my left, and cover me, k?"

"Right, got it, git."

Still secreted on the rooftops, the spectator watched, cobalt eyes lit from within, observing the fighting, crinkling slightly at the corners.

Ilyria held her place as protector over an unconscious Angel. Her tiny fists impacting the demons disproportionately to their size. She occasionally would smile darkly, loving the thrill of killing at least a few of these insects that had taken over her world. Throughout her battle, she could hear Angel stirring back into consciousness. As his eyes finally opened, and he attempted to rise, a tiny but very powerful woman stepped up behind Ilyria. How the young one made it through the demon army was not immediately discernible to Ilyria, but the scythe in the young woman's hand spoke to her of power. She turned fully to the girl who had taken hold of Angel's arm and was lifting him to his feet while dispatching a charging demon soldier with a casual swing of her weapon. Ilyria scented the air, deciding who the girl was.

"You reek of ancient power, as does your weapon. You are older than these beings." She looked Buffy up and down, coming to a decision. "I am no longer needed here in this space." Ilyria stalked off into the army, swinging her arms in wide arcs, flinging demon scum from before her. She cut a swath of destruction through the horde, wiping them out as she stalked.

"Well, Angel, looks like when you resign, you bring the world to an end? Geesh, couldn't you have just sent a memo?" Buffy quipped. "And who was Smurfette?"

"You're here." Angel said on a sigh. "You're late, but you're here." He touched her face with one hand and snapped the neck of one of the demons with the other. When both hands were free, he grabbed her face and kissed her delicately. "Thank you."

She smiled. "Nice as it is to say hello to you, do you think you could let me go, so me and my girls can help you take care of this fight?"

"Sure." he grinned. A loud roar filled the night, drowning out the battle sounds and Buffy and Angel looked up into the sky. The dragon that had so casually unseated Angel flew in a low sweeping arc above them, breathing fire on the battle. Buffy stepped forward with her scythe, ready to attack. Angel's hand on her arm stopped her.

She grinned this time. "I take it this is something you need to do by yourself?"

"Yeah, it kinda is." He kissed her one more time, then leapt into the air, back onto the dragon's back.

Buffy shook her head and smiled, saying, "Oh. You're so gonna lose." She turned her attention back to the battle at hand, looking behind her. "Ok, Robin, Faith, bring em all in. It's time."

At her command, Robin and Faith, each with about 75 even younger girls following, entered the battle. The girls broke into the horde, culling out six or seven demons to each, effectively dividing and conquering. Buffy watched with pride as her charges met the challenge and fought like true champions. Then she too joined the fight, scythe ringing out with power.

The four fronts battled, with the side of good edging out, taking out demons and dragons, winning the battle. The essence of victory was with them. The dark observer on the rooftop smiled grimly. He watched the warriors with something akin to satisfaction, pleased that they were doing so well. His smile widened, then suddenly vanished as he looked above the battlefield.

Xander paused in his fighting, sword paused in midair. "What the hell is that?" He asked, looking off to his right, where in the sky, a small fissure of light was growing. They had beaten back the demon army, and were simply polishing off the stragglers when Xander's question made them pause. As they all watched, the fissure opened even larger, growing huge and bright, blinding. Ilyria slowly turned, observed the disturbance and announced, "That is a portal," in a remarkably Fred-like voice.

Xander's and the rest of the Scoobies' eyes widened. "Ok." this from Faith. "A portal to where?"

"Not to, but from." Ilyria continued to watch curiously as the portal opened completely. Her face set in stone as she realized what was happening. "It begins again. There is great power here, a dark reckoning is approaching. Let them come, I am ready."

"Well, bully for you pet, me not so much. This battle is bone wearing. We're tired, we're beat up, and we can't take another punch like the last one, no matter how many friends we have here." Spike's voice rose in frustration.

As he spoke, the second even larger demon wave came through the portal. Fresh bodies for a fresh fight, ready to kill and destroy those who stood in their way. They marched in uniformity, their stomps like the death knell for the warriors. The being on the rooftop simply waited, expectantly.

After the last of the new demon infantry stepped through the portal, three more even larger beings step out. The first, a huge wolf on two legs, grey and black fur shining in the moonlight. The snarl on its lips indicating arrogant disdain for those before it. The second being, a cloven footed beast, horns curled down to its neck, the goat like face surveying the devastated first wave of demons with anger shining from its eyes. The last beast to make its way through the portal, a great Hart, half again as large as the first two, seemed to be the general of this new army. He stood solidly and confidently in his place, knowing his victory was now at hand.

As the portal closed, Angel finally killed the dragon, slicing its neck, and plummeted back to the ground riding the dragon as it fell. He saw the new threat and before anyone had a chance to ask, Angel said "Wolf, Ram, and Hart. Now I know this is the end." The crusaders gathered together in the alley, a god, two vampires, 152 slayers, a street gang, a wizard, a witch, a slayer's son and one regular average joe stood in the center of an apocalypse, and waited to begin again.

He stared in wonder at the relative small group of fighters. They knew they were defeated, yet still they fought. He admired them for their tenacity, but he knew something they did not. This was not supposed to be happening. With a deep sigh, he uncrossed his arms, gathered his power and struck.

The lightning bolt was so bright, so fast, the second wave of demons never even had a chance. In the blink of an eye, an army of thousands was reduced to a pile of dust and bloody mud. Angel and his small line of defense against the evil could only stare in stunned appreciation. But the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart merely stood undeterred by the display.

Exasperated, the being on the rooftop growled, "Oh for pity's sake...." He jumped to the ground, breaking the concrete of the alley floor as he landed. He stood up slowly. His blueblack hair gleaming in the midnight. His skin shone like polished blue granite, power emanating from his every pore. He turned to the warriors, eyes shining with cobalt energy. "I'm going to take care of this right now." He looked directly at Angel, who, stunned into silence, mouthed "Wesley?"

"It's about time you intervened, Papa smurf." Ilyria said flippantly, using Fred's voice.

The face Angel had been so struck by turned to stone. Turning away from Angel, the figure looked over at Ilyria. She smiled at the light she saw. He simply turned from her to face the three.

"You dare to show yourselves on this plane? You dare to interfere in the cycle?" His voice, a dark combination of power and timelessness, addressed them.

The Hart spoke, detached curiosity barely covering the disgust in his voice. "And who would you be to address us? You seem as insignificant as the rest of these mere mortals, battling for a plane of existence that is no longer theirs."

"Do you not know me? Do you not recognize your master?" He fixed the wolf with a pointed stare. "I am he who pulled the first thorn from your paw, who tended you when your mother fell." He fixated on the ram. "I am he who fed you your first sweet fruits, you licked the juice from my hands." Finally, he turned to the hart. "I am he that pulled you from your dying mother's womb, and nursed you to greatness." His gaze encompassed all of them, the fire shining out visibly. "Still, you do not recognize me?"

The three great beasts examined the newcomer thoroughly, finally coming to a conclusion. Their voices mingled in the night air as they said his name in awe, "Altyron."

Angel, Buffy and the others could only watch the spectacle. They had known when the beasts came out who they were going to be dealing with, but the arrival of who they thought was Wesley but turned out not to be, was throwing them off. They continued to watch, hoping only that this new entity would not be a new foe. For if he could control the beasts of Wolfram and Hart, there was no way their ragtag army could take him out. Angel looked over at Ilyria, as she seemed to know who and what this person -and he used that word loosely- was. She stood with her arms hanging at her side, head cocked slightly to one side, relaxed, with a small smug smile. Buffy followed his gaze, saying, "I guess she knows this dude? I mean he looks kinda like Wes, and I thought for second he talked like him too, and that would be of the good, but this guy? Totally freakin me out now, ya know?"

Spike, Willow, Giles and Xander came up to them, followed by Faith, Robin, and the small slayer army. Charles and his gang came up shortly. Giles finally got a good look at Ilyria. "Oh yes. That makes much more sense." he said. Spike snarked, "Great, oh cryptic watcher one. What makes more sense, if you don't mind explaining it to those of us that don't speak, well, Watcherese."

Giles rolled his eyes and didn't bother to address Spike immediately. He turned to Angel. "I gather that the blue faced girl used to be your colleague, Fred? And that she now goes by Ilyria, correct?"

Exasperated, Angel said, "Yes. And I called you with this problem last month, but you couldn't help us, could you?"

"Well, we were rather busy..." Giles' voice trailed off as the scene before them developed.

"So, you remember now, do you?" Altyron questioned the three. "That is good, because the events that you, and others, have brought about are indeed about to end. I have been sent by the mother to restore the balance in this plain. The Apocalypse is not something that can be influenced to one side or another. The very idea that you three thought you could accomplish this feat disappoints me. I would have thought you understood the process as much as ... Well, never mind. The Mother has sent me to this plane, constrictive though it is in this body, to restore the rightful balance and that means that you three are to be punished."

The three looked at Altyron, their faces a study in the different shades of curiosity. The Hart, so obviously the entity in control scoffed at the idea of a balanced apocalypse. "What? Altyron, there is no balance in apocalypse, it is simply a matter of gaining the upper hand, and accepting the inevitable result. They are by nature evil, and as we are evil, it would best suit our purposes to more quickly bring this circumstance about." The Wolf and Ram, nodded their agreement. They remained quietly observant.

Altyron's impatience with these lower beings began to show in the power that crackled about him, and shone from his eyes and skin. "No. The Apocalypse is neither evil nor good, but simply a struggle. It is the ever constant struggle of good and evil, vying for a foothold in this plane. It makes this plane possible, livable." He turned to Angel and the others. "You, Vampire, are a key element in the battle, as are you Slayer, and all of your insignificant warriors. You are all the Mother needs to keep the balance of battle in equilibrium. The fact that these three demons," his toned dripped disdain as he indicated Wolfram and Hart, "have managed to tip the scales has angered her."

Buffy spoke up, addressing him directly. "Ok, question here Voltron," she butchered his name and he had to decide for himself if it was purposely, "when you say 'Mother' you mean, like, Creator? Or Mother Nature?"

"Your tiny mind could not grasp the true concept of what the Mother is, and I shan't endeavor to explaining it to you, Slayer. Suffice to say, the Mother is the all encompassing power or lifeforce that binds all living things to this realm, and to others. She sits in passive observation on all that happens around her."

"Ok, so, she's like God, right? Not that I particularly buy into all that, but I get it."

"No. She is not."

Willow spoke up, understanding in her voice. "Buffy, she is mother earth. She controls the seasons, brings the roots of exotic flowers to the call of magic's hands, she rolls with the tides, and sings with the hawks in flight. She is the power that allows the connections between all living and inanimate things in this universe to be manipulated by magic, to be shared and used and loved." She smiled, "Mother is everywhere, in everything, but is eternally separate by her own choosing. Neutral. Gaya. The heart."

Altyron listened to Willow's explanation and nodded his approval. "Witch, you surprise me with your level of awareness and understanding." Willow beamed at this praise from such a powerful being. "Yeah, I am wisdom girl."

"All this is very lovely, but what have we done to upset dear old mom?" The Hart's disrespect for the conversation as well as its topic was evident.

"Silence you insolent mongrel! Do you gain joy in tempting the wrath of the Mother? Or her servants? For make no mistake, I will have no second thoughts concerning wiping you out of existence." The voice reverberated off the brick walls of the building that surrounded them. "As it stands you must be punished for your insolence concerning this plane. You do not belong here, yet you try to cultivate it as your own. As a result, you are destined to remain here, indefinitely until you come to terms with both your position in regards to this universe, and your status in the next worlds." His power fluctuated around him, and he spoke words in a language so old even Giles had never heard of it.

The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart all howled. Their demon voices mingling in the night, the cacophony rising to the heavens. The observers could do nothing but hold their hands over their ears in defense. But nothing seemed to help. They watched as the three beasts were reduced in size, their animalistic features giving way to more human ones that somehow seemed to be reminiscent of what they had been. The Wolf was turned to a smaller than average human, with thick shoulders and chest, his body covered in dark hair. His eyes gleamed silver in the night. The Ram morphed into a thin gangly man, with a long rectangular face, wide brown eyes, and large lips. His body was gaunt and hungry looking. The Hart was reduced to a fearful being, timid, paranoid, and frail looking. Short, skinny, and immediately looking to escaped the situation, searching for his predator.

Altyron addressed the newly formed human beings. "You will remain in these forms until I or the Mother has determined that you have learned your lessons. Now, vanish yourselves from my sight." He dismissed them, and as they scattered, naked, into the night, Altyron turned to the army before him. As he stalked to the small hastily assembled force, he noticed the young woman grinning at him from the shadows of the alley. At his notice, she ambled forward, seen only by him. Her brown eyes flashing arrogance and power in a gamine face underneath blonde waves.. Altyron simply watched as she approached.

"Well, that was nicely done, I say. I mean, completely gave those beasts the fear of ... well, what exactly are you anyway?" She cocked her head to the side in askance.

"There is no need for you to know who I am. And how dare you wear the face of a champion?"

Angel and the rest of the group watched as Altyron spoke to thin air. Buffy and Faith looked knowingly at each other.

"Great, not this thing again. Damn, B, I thought we got rid of this big bad." Faith's exasperated despair hung in the air. Spike noticed it as well. The fear that crept into his eyes at the memories of his time in the First's possession and control took Buffy by surprise. He started to shake his head unconsciously. Then Altyron spoke again.

"And why hide from those that thwarted you?" His hand moved in a shallow arc where it hung by his side, and suddenly the entity that had spoken to him, hoping to remain invisible to the others, appeared. Her fragile body gleaming in the moonlight.

"Oh my God." The breathless and whispered exclamation came from Xander. "No. Not her, please, don't be her." His voice rose in unexpressed grief. "Not my girl."

The First grinned in Anya's face, smug satisfaction evident in the sparkle that shone from her eyes. "Oh yes. I can take any dead shape I choose, you should be well aware of that. And as I particularly like to wear the faces of those I kill directly, this one was just ..... well,...neat."

Altyron spoke again, adressing the First directly. "I asked you how dare you wear the face of a champion? You have no right to wear any face of these beings."

"Are you kidding me? This one was no champion. She lived a thousand years and more. She killed thousands, perhaps more, and wrought vengeance on millions more than that. She is not a champion."

"She gave her life in defense of an innocent. Of a mere mortal. In the fight to seal the Hellmouth once and for all. That makes her a champion, and you shall NOT wear her face!" Cobalt sparks rose from Altyron's body, a silent thunder rocked the alley and the First's true form was revealed to them. The red demon screamed in frustration. But Altyron continued speaking. "You have no right to be here. Your place is beneath. What made you think you could come here?" The curiosity with which he spoke sounded so much like something Wes would express that Angel gasped, always a strange sensation for a vampire, even when he does it often.

The First began to answer. "That one," he pointed at Buffy, "was dead. Her time was over; she was gone from this plane. Yet she walks in this world again. The balance of power had shifted and I used the opportunity. I had EVERY right - "

"No." Altyron broke into his speech. "The Slayer's essence never left this plane. She was always here. Even for the three months she was dead, her essence was alive, walking in this world, continuing to fight."

The army watching the confrontation looked confused. Giles' eyebrows shot into his hairline at the information, and Willow and Xander just frowned in confusion. Buffy understood right away. The only way that was possible was through Dawn, as Dawn was made from the Buffy's blood. That was the very reason she could seal the rift opened by Glory. Buffy smiled.

As the realization dawned on the First's face, Altyron smiled. "Now, you too will remove yourself from this plane. You have no right to be here right now. It isn't your time to dwell here. The fact that you have tried means that your time will be delayed." He cocked his head sideways, the corners of his smile lifting into a grin. "Also indefinitely. Enjoy emptiness, for you won't be allowed to touch another soul." And the First vanished in a crackle of blue lightning and thunder.

Altyron strode purposefully over to the small army. His demeanor shifted obviously, the tone of his voice hesitant, but the cobalt power shining behind his eyes remained. "Ok. So, um Angel, perhaps we had better retreat to a more discreet venue. I'll explain everything." The voice was Wesley's, the mannerisms, the demeanor, even the shy smile. But it was the eyes, the cobalt eyes that shifted before Angel, turning to the bright sapphire of Wes' eyes, that struck the vampire speechless. He fell to his knees in grief. "Not him too, please no. Not Wes too. To lose him to death was one thing," he whispered, "but please don't make him do this too. I already lost so many. Doyle, Cordy, Connor, Fred." Buffy reached her hand down to comfort Angel, but Wes was already there.

He reached out to touch Angel's face, forcing him to look at him. "Angel," he said in a voice completely his, and Angel looked up at him, seeing Wesley without the blue granite skin or blue-black hair. Even his clothes had changed from the blue and black second-skin leather to Wes' casual look of grey sweater and slacks. "You didn't lose me. I didn't die. I chose this. It was the only way to win." He helped Angel to his feet. "Now, let's go and I'll explain."

He turned to the rest of them. "Hello Buffy, Faith. So good of you to join us." He looked over at Giles, who was smiling. "Giles," there was hesitation in his voice. "It is good to see you again." Giles nodded, indicating his understanding. "Good show, Wesley. I'm glad it was you, and that you finally realized where your destiny was leading." Wesley looked shocked. Then a tap on his shoulder pulled his attention.

He turned and was engulfed in a hearty, manly embrace, even lifted a couple of inches off his feet. "Damn, English, it's good to have you back." Wes returned the embrace whole heartedly. "Good to be here, Charles. Now, could you perhaps put me down?" When he was back on terra firma, Spike clapped him on the back. "Bad ass lightning you got there, Percy. Don't ever flash it my way, right?" Wes nodded. Then turned to Ilyria, who had watched and waited in silence.

"Thank you. For earlier. For lying to me." She watched him as he spoke. Her head seeming to follow his words around. "It made things..settle... in my mind. I finally understood and was able to accept what happened to Fred." Ilyria looked confused. Wes grinned sheepishly, "You're early Ilyria. You should have waited."

To Be Continued.


	2. Home Again

TITLE: Restoration Chp. 2 Home Again  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, just taking them out to play. Don't sue, I'm destitute.  
SUMMARY: After the battle, Altyron/Wes explains the situation.  
SETTING: Angel Season 6 AU  
FEEDBACK: Oh fer sure!! I am nothing if not a feedback ho. So please feed my muse. Or she'll eat you later.

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HOME AGAIN

May 2004  
The Hyperion

Andrew hated waiting. He'd spent the better part of last year tied to a chair waiting to die, and any time he waited, that is what it felt like: imprisoned, expecting the proverbial ax to fall and end his miserable existence. Not that his existence was miserable any more. He loved what he did now. He was action guy. Well, not exactly _action_ action guy, but he got to plan, to develop and stake out action. He was the strategist. Well, that wasn't the case either. Buffy and Faith were the strategists, but he helped. With the baking of pastries for said strategy planning meetings. Oh hell. He may as well admit it. His nose was kept in the books because that is what he was good at. He could research demons till the cows came home, and besides, he liked hangin out with Mr. Giles. Although the man could be quite scary sometimes.

Andrew sighed. Scary boss man aside, Andrew liked being a member of the new Watcher's Council. But again, the worst thing about it was, as always, the waiting. And that is what he did now. He had watched as Buffy, Faith, Giles, and the rest of the crew ran off to battle whatever evil Angel and his law firm had brought into the world. It helped, though, that Angel had finally wised up. That the dark knight had willingly cast his lot in with the minions of evil in order to head up their evil conglomerate on earth had been a source of great concern for Buffy and her friends. No one could wrap their head around it properly.

The answer had come through Willow. A great magical upheaval had occurred a couple of weeks ago, and it had something to do with altered realities being set right again. Willow had caught glimpses of what had been changed and relayed that information to Buffy. Angel had had a son, and in order to rescue the boy from a life of darkness and pain, he made it all go away. The price for such a deed? To become puppets for Wolfram and Hart. It appeared that there was something in the world that Angel would indeed sacrifice everything for, and for Buffy to finally understand that it wasn't her? Well, let's just say that there had been a few days where Slayer number 1 had not been so pleasant.

Andrew shuddered at the memory, and paced around the lobby of the hotel. The gang had been gone for two solid hours now, and he was really worried. His footfalls on the ancient marble floors disguised the opening of the doors, but when he heard the sounds of his friends coming in, he flew up the stairs to meet them.

"Oh, thank god you guys are alright! I've been beside myself with worry!"

Buffy and Faith walked in first, followed by Robin and the rest of the young slayers, some of them wounded. "Andrew," Buffy addressed the young man, "we need suture kits, and plenty of bandages. Also, some antiseptic would be good for the girls. No telling what kinds of demon blood they got into or what kind of damage it can do. Lord knows, I ought to know about the effects of strange demon blood on a Slayer."

"Right Buffy. I'll get right on that." Andrew continued to watch the entering crowd, looking for one person in particular. Not seeing him, he turned and headed into the offices of the hotel to get the stuff Buffy had asked for.

Angel, Spike, and Gunn walked in, or rather slumped in. Their bodies finally demonstrating the violence of the night in the curve of their shoulders, and the stiffness in their steps. Angel and Spike would be ship shape in no time, but Gunn knew if he didn't lie down soon, something in his body would simply give out. His heart maybe, so he made a beeline for the closest available flat surface that wasn't the floor. It ended up being the round bench in the middle of the lobby. He dropped his weapon before he sat down, then collapsed onto the soft velour furniture. "God, if I don't see another demon ever, it will be too soon."

His old gang followed him in, mocking him. "Don't worry, Charlie, demons will be back to menacing this city before dawn tomorrow. We'll cover it for ya." Johnson sat next to Gunn. "But first? We gonna need some serious liquor to make these aches and pains go away, right?"

Gunn nodded. "Yeah, I hear ya." But he made no effort to move. Johnson laughed again. "We'll get it later, right?"

Ilyria came in alone. Her mood indistinguishable from any other moment in her tenure with Angel. She was just as impassive as ever. The only thing different about her was the light sparkle in her sky blue eyes. It seemed as though she knew a secret and was unwilling to share. Angel watched her walk across the lobby to stand watch over the wounded slayers. "I don't know what to make of this development Spike. Ilyria seems, I don't know, content now. She seems willing to accept that this is where she is supposed to be. It's weird."

"Yeah, mate. I know. One minute, she's all "want to do more violence," the next, the bird's almost content to be here. Course, you know it started when Wes - I mean the big blue papa smurf popped out of nowhere and zapped those demons to God knows where."

"Yeah. Don't know what to make of that either." Angel's voice trailed off when the subject of their discussion entered the hotel lobby. He looked like Wes, acted like Wes, even sounded like him, but Angel was certain that this was just a trick. Like what happened with Ilyria when Fred's parents came. Angel wasn't buying that Wesley had simply made a choice and come back, housing another great godlike being. Not _his_ Wesley, no way.

But Wes, or what looked like him, was laughing and talking with Giles like the old Wes would have done had circumstances been different in Sunnydale. It seemed that he and Giles had cleared some bad air between them, and were on their way to establishing some sort of working friendship. Angel looked over at Buffy who made her way over to him.

"Hmmm. Not like Giles to keep a secret from me, eh Angel? Oh wait, yeah it is. I don't know about you, but I got the distinct impression that he knew exactly what was going on, and the way he is acting all chummy with, well, with someone what looks an awful lot like Wesley, leads me to believe that he knew all along." She looked over at Giles and called out to him. "So, hey, Watcher O' Mine? You gonna fill us in on what is going on, cuz, taking little steps into conclusions here, but you look like Mr. Knowledge Guy."

Giles had the temerity to look sheepish at Buffy's assessment. "Ah, yes. Well, I do know what has happened, and Wesley here is quite right. Ilyria is indeed early." Giles looked at Angel. "And believe me when I say that this is Wesley. This is the same man you have known for 6 years. He just has a little extra something, and as much as I'd like to tell you what is going on - "

"It isn't your place, but Wes'." Angel finished his statement.

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose and stated simply, "Well, yes exactly."

"Well, great. I can't wait to hear this." Angel's voice dripped sarcasm and doubt, and he moved from his perch on the counter to walk over to where Wes had begun to talk to Ilyria.

* * *

Xander watched from the sidewalk as everyone walked into the hotel. He looked up at the huge old building and sighed. He couldn't bring himself to enter and face everyone inside. He had seen her. _Her_. His girl. His stupid, literal, well meaning, beautiful girl. Finally. But it hadn't been her. That bastard had stolen her face and wore it in front of him. It just served to remind Xander that he hadn't been able to save the one that mattered the most to him. He lowered his head and rubbed a tired, bloody hand over his face. He heard a sobbing breath and it took a moment to realize that it was his.

She had been gone a year. He knew it, felt it every day. Her absence like a permanent wound from the battle that long ago day at the high school. He continued to poke at the wound to keep it fresh. Remembering the times she had curled her delicate body around his in the night. How she had danced in her red negligee when Sweet had come to town. How she had cried so hard when he tried unsuccessfully to tell her why he couldn't marry her. Her tears had burned a hole in his heart that day that had never healed. He still heard them in his dreams at night.

He remembered her comment about solace, and how she stood her ground at the Magic Box, chanting the counterspell to protect Andrew and Jonathon. And that even as a demon, she had fought to help Willow. He remembered her grief at losing her power a second time, thinking she was simply going to be killed. But instead, having to watch Halfrek go up in flames as punishment for her turning away from the vengeance life. He remembered going to her, hoping to be able to hold her and comfort her, but she wouldn't let him. She said she needed to be on her own for once.

Finally her remembered how it felt to tell her he still loved her, and how it felt to be held within her again. The sweet warmth of her body enveloping his. She was home, and now she was gone. Her broken body lying somewhere at the bottom of a crater that used to be Sunnydale. It wasn't fair. She was light, life, and beauty. She was _his_ girl, goddammit. And she was gone. Forever. His heart hurt so bad, he thought about carving it out of his chest and handing it to whatever gods may be, if only he could have one more minute with her.

He shook his head, wiped his eye, and walked over to the garden he knew to be in the courtyard of the hotel. He sat down on the tiny bench there, and started talking. He didn't know if she could hear him, but it was about time he told her all the things he needed. A year is just too long to keep stuff trapped inside. He had to let it out.

"Ahn," he whispered. "I know you are probably sitting up there right now, having a latte with Cordy. Or what passes for a latte in heaven. Hey Cordy." He waved at the night sky. "Anya. I miss you. So bad. Sometimes so much I don't know what to do with myself. I try to stay occupied. It keeps me from becoming the one-eyed maudlin guy. But you should know it doesn't work."

He took a shaky breath, listening as it hiccuped in his lungs, as though trying to keep from becoming a real sob. "Why did you do it? Why did you stand in the way? I mean for Christ's sake, Anya. It was Andrew!! No one believed he would make it out alive, not even him. He told me you gave your life to save his. What are you? An idiot? I needed you, and you went away, for him." He dashed the tears from his face. "I know, I know. It is what we do. We lay down our lives everyday for everyone. Even those we know deserve to die. I want you to know that Andrew is always talking about how unworthy he was that you would lay down yours for his. But you don't get off that easy from me."

He stood up again and walked around the garden, touching leaves that looked way past their prime, and inhaling the long dead scent of flowers that ceased to bloom months ago. "You were always mine Anya. I never stopped loving you, even when I realized that I didn't love me. I never stopped caring about you, hoping for the best for you and wishing beyond all sanity that I was it. You don't know it, but I would have traded my soul to be what you wanted and needed. I loved you, _love_ you that much."

He sat down on the bench again, having circled the garden completely. Just then, a small animal made its way into the garden. It watched him with cautious eyes, then, apparently decided that Xander posed no threat to its existence, it hopped over to where he sat. Sniffing the air quickly, its pink nose twitching in the night air, the rabbit at Xander's feet suddenly leapt up onto the garden bench. It curled its white furry body into Xander's thigh, inching as close as possible to the human warmth.

"Well hey there little fella." Xander ran a cautious hand over the rabbit's fur. When the animal preened and moved into his hand, Xander felt a little strange sensation. He kept petting the little furball, and it kept rubbing into his hand. When the creature looked up into his face, Xander drew an audible breath. He was no silly man, well he was, but not about weird stuff, and he had seen his fair share of weirdness living on the Hellmouth and helping Buffy in the good fight against all manners of evil. Weird stuff was his milieu. Hey, wouldn't Willow be proud of his thinking of milieu? But the more he looked at this rabbit, the more he realized that this was no ordinary rabbit.

When the creature crawled into his lap, and nuzzled his belly, he laughed. "Oh, Anya. Trust you to come back contrary." He tossed aside his caution and picked up the rabbit, holding it at eye level. "You know, you hated rabbits, so I don't understand all this - " Suddenly he got a flash of something. Someone who looked like Anya, but dressed in really old clothes, holding two bunnies. The woman cuddled them closely, and kissed the creatures on their heads, then she spoke in some foreign language to them, smiling.

"Oh, I get it. The phobia was something that came with the demon, not something the human Anya would have had. You had to rid yourself of human entanglements, and instead of just giving up on bunnies, you had a phobia." He grinned at the rabbit in his hands. "That makes so much sense that's not, it's funny." He nuzzled the rabbit's neck, and kissed its head, like he had seen the woman in the vision do. "I miss you, I love you. I wish you were here again, but I'm glad you're not. I hope you are happy where you are, and that you can keep watch over all of us. Lord knows we need the watching and concern." He hugged the rabbit one last time, before putting it down and watching it hop away. "Good bye Ahn. Take care of you."

With those last words, and one more quick wipe at his eyes, Xander walked over to the Hyperion doors and walked in.

* * *

Andrew had returned from the kitchen with the needed bandages and creams for the wounded slayers, and was turning to get some water for some of the less injured girls when the door opened quietly. He watched as Xander made his way inside, avoiding the pockets of conversation and moving over to a corner of the room where there was no one. He stood and looked out the window into the night sky. Andrew fetched the girls their water, then walked over to where Xander was.

Quietly, hoping not to disturb the man's solitude, Andrew stood at Xander's shoulder and cleared his throat. Xander turned, a sad smile falling from his mouth.

"Hey Andrew. Looks like everybody made it back in one piece, if just a little worse for wear."

Andrew looked back over the lobby at all the people in it. "Yeah. Most look to be alright, Xan. I was waiting for you, though. I notice you didn't come in with the rest. What's up, Yoda.?"

Xander sighed. "I saw her." He shook his head. "Well not her, exactly, but it wore her face for a minute or two, and I guess I freaked." Andrew looked confused. "Saw who? What wore whose - "

"Anya. The first wore Anya's face. It threw me. Boy, tossed me right over, is what it did. It has never really hit me you know?" Once he started talking, to Andrew whom he knew would understand, it was like Xander couldn't stop. "I mean, I knew she was dead, knew what you told me that day was true. That she had died to save you, but I never saw her body. I never had to reconcile it in my head. There was always this foolish hope that she would come back to me, like Buffy had twice before. But the First wearing her face. God, Andrew it was like a punch in the gut. Like she died all over again, and I still couldn't save her. It hurt so much." He broke off.

Andrew walked up closer to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I get it. Really I do. It was the way I felt when Buffy held me over the seal and made me cry - made me fix the seal. I had killed Jonathan, but it wasn't real. He kept coming back, talking to me, making me want to believe that I had no part in his death. But it was real, and I had to face it before I could seek my redemption." Andrew's voice held a false wisdom, that always grated on Xander's nerves, but he understood what the young man was trying to say. Xander needed to move on, and in order to do that he had to face what happened to Anya.

"Well, guy, I'd say you achieved some measure of redemption, right?" At Andrew's nod, Xander continued. "But Anya will never be with me again. I'll never feel her in the night, never listen to her take some off hand comment too literally. I'll never hear her tell the truth again, even when no one wants to hear it but everyone needs to." Andrew watched as a single tear found its way down Xander's right cheek. "She's gone, and I'm never going to have her back, and it hurts, Andrew."

"I know."

Silence fell as the two men watched the night sky through the panes of the window.

* * *

Angel stood in front of Wes, his arms folded over his chest. "So. You gonna explain what the hell is going on, _Wesley_, or do I just kill what ever it is you are now and be done with it all?"

Wesley looked at Ilyria, who had stopped talking to him when Angel came up to them. "Well, Ilyria, it seems we shall have to finish this conversation another time. I appear to have a prior engagement." He grinned and stood to face Angel. "Why yes, Angel. I do believe it is now that time. Why don't you call everyone over, so I won't have to repeat myself several times?"

Angel indicated to everyone in the lobby to join them. "Ok, _Wes_, we're all ears, now."

"Ah, yes well, then. I suppose you want me to start at the beginning?"

"That is usually as good a place as any."

"Ok." Wesley took a deep breath. "Well, as you know, I planned on kidnapping Connor. I had him, was leaving, had already beaten Lorne and was leaving. Then, as you already know, Justine had to make her appearance. She slit my throat, took the baby and left. So because of me you lost your son. But that is not the issue at this moment." He looked stricken. "Um, that is not to say, I mean. I never intended to minimize your - "

"It's ok. Go one with this new story. Please."

"Ok. Well, there I was lying bleeding on the grass." He looked curiously at Angel. "Didn't you ever wonder how I didn't die? I mean, my god all my blood had leaked out onto the grass. Yes, Charles and Fred happened up at just the right moment, but even by then, I had lost so much blood." He saw Angel's frown at this new information.

Angel had known Wes had his throat cut. That was why he had been in the hospital. But he never knew it had been so severe. He thought Gunn and Fred had found him just after it had happened. To hear this news and see it in his mind's eye, there was no doubt in his mind that Wes should have been dead that night. Angel shouldn't have been able to get into a hospital room to smother him.

Wes watched the play of emotions on the vampire's face. He nodded. "Right, yes. By all rights and purposes, I should have died. But I didn't. That was the first night I felt _him_. He kept me alive, whispered in my mind's ear that he would always be with me, if I just didn't die. Then he proceeded to keep me alive. This presence manifested itself in many ways. I was less cautious, less afraid. It allowed me to continue to work, fighting evil, even though I no longer had Charles, Fred and you to help me. I was stronger, faster, less intimidated. Or did that escape your notice as well?"

Angel shook his head negative. "No Wes, I noticed quite a few things. I noticed that you didn't seem to care about anything, including yourself any more. You slept with Lilah for God's sake!"

"Yes, I did. And came to love her as well. But it didn't mean I had lost myself. I just realized that things for me were no longer black and white. I found Justine, after she and Connor sank you to the bottom of the ocean. I held her captive in my closet, in a tiny cage until she finally told me where you were. The old me would never have done that. But Altyron helped me. He taught me more about myself than I thought I'd ever learn. Do you remember the boat ride back, Angel?"

Angel refused to acknowledge him.

"How I fed you? Pricked my own arm and fed you back to sanity and strength? You bled me dry, almost. I almost couldn't walk, couldn't carry you back to the hotel, but I did. It was because of him. He needed me to be whole." He looked over at Giles, who smiled grimly.

"You know, Giles, it would have been nice to get a head's up, you know. I can't believe you didn't tell me that this was where my life was leading me."

Giles spoke in self defense. "Would you have believed me? No, I don't think so, besides the prophecy I ran across explicitly stated that you had to make the choice yourself. My telling you would have unduly influenced your decision, therefore making the situation impossible. So don't yell at me, young man. I'm still your elder." The last was said with a self-deprecating grin.

"Right. _Sir_," Wesley mocked him jokingly. "Anyway. There we were, Altyron and I sharing this body, relatively speaking. I mean, I was still absolutely me, but he had poked through, twice, to save me from myself."

Angel looked ready to implode. "Ok, I get all this, it's a history lesson so to speak. But what about now? How the hell did he completely take you over, Wes? I mean, the blue hair, cobalt eyes, S&M leather? What the hell is up with that?"

Wes laughed. "S&M leather? Ooo, you must take a picture and let me see that. That has got to be hot. But I am coming to that. There are some things that are missing. Your memory spell to protect Connor comes to mind. Altyron was helping me, aiding me, but not taking over, then your memory spell that pushed any and all remembrances of Connor out of our minds. It also repressed Altyron who had shown up only after the events pertaining to Connor. Without the reality of the slit throat, I didn't need him any more, and he was forced out. Then I did the remembering spell. Or broke the original spell.

"The rest you already know. At least until I made the choice. You see, I was dying again. Ilyria was there, and she pretended to be Fred again for me. I think she liked me you see? I had no idea how much she really knew. I lay there, listening to my Fred talk to me, then I remember dying. Sort of. I am not sure how all this worked, but I'll tell you what happened. I met Altyron again. He made me this deal. He knew I was dying. He also knew that Wolf, Ram, and Hart were coming. That you had indeed dealt them a crushing blow. He offered to share this body with him. You would have lost, L.A. even the world would have been destroyed.

"He told me that I wouldn't die, not even a little. Just that he and I would share the body, much like your soul and demon share your body, I suppose. So there was this spell, incantation, what have you. And I woke up. I remembered the plan to meet in the alley, and I left. I climbed up onto the rooftops, watched the battle, and felt Altyron come into me.

"I like him Angel, and I think you will too, when you get to know him. He is a god, or a godlike being, and as such has an ambivalence about him that is unsettling, but he is a stickler for fairness and justice. I think that is why he intervened, or allowed me to persuade him to intervene."

"So, this Altyron is a good guy? Or what?" This from the previously silent Buffy.

"No. He just is." Wesley chuckled again. "He likes you Buffy. You exasperate him, but you are funny, and you try to understand the world around you. He finds you admirable. And he respects your power."

"Well, that's good to know. The last god I ran across just wanted to smack me down to get my key. That psycho bitch."

Wes turned to Ilyria. "He's missed you terribly, Ilyria."

"Well. He needs to reveal himself to me and demonstrate his affections himself, Wesley." Ilyria looked dubious. "But he is a fickle god and as such, I doubt he will."

"Ilyria?" Wes inquired. At her acknowledgment, he continued. "Thank you for being Fred, for allowing her to surface and keep me company as I died, or rather didn't die. But you do know that the incantation must be said? I discovered why you had to have your powers stripped and it all has to do with timing and permission. Fred had no idea you were coming, and therefore couldn't do the incantation to invite you in. And while doing so now is sort of like closing the barn door after the horses have escaped, it would help to allow Fred to complete the ritual of joining. I have it on good authority that it will restore your powers."

At this, Spike spoke up. "What? You mean Fred could have been spared the sickness, the death? We wouldn't have had to actually lose her?"

"Exactly. The violence with which Ilyria took Fred over would have been unnecessary had Ilyria simply waited. The ritual was to begin within the next couple of weeks. Her parents were coming to see to it. But by the time they arrived, Ilyria had already taken her. Remember, Spike, I was there. I watched Fred die. I held her tiny body in my arms and listened to her body breathe its last breath. If I could have saved her I would have. In less than a heartbeat." He turned back to Ilyria. "So? Are you willing to perform the ritual?"

Ilyria had known that some sort of reckoning would come about her untimely re-emergence into this world. She pretended to mull the inquiry over. "I suppose it would be gratifying to have my full powers restored. I have missed walking through time." She nodded her acquiescence. "I'll allow the shell - I am sorry - Fred to perform the ritual of joining.

"Good. Things will be much better then. I promise." Wes smiled at everyone, then his eyes retreated, turning cobalt again. The soft brown-black of his hair crisping into the blue black of Altyron. His clothes transforming again to the blue and black second-skin leather. The creature before them sighed. Then he spoke, his voice a soft thunder of sound, washing into the lobby like waves on the rocky shores of northern California.

"I hope that you have all understood what the Wesley was telling you. I look forward to learning more about this world, and about you. I must apologize for the way we have met, but circumstances being what they are here, it was unavoidable. You will find I am not so smug as my colleague Ilyria," his voice lightened at the mention of her name, and he turned a fond smile in her direction, "and I have infinitely more patience. Of course that is a direct result of the differences in our residences over the last several millennia. I was not buried in a hole in the world, but have been in relatively luxurious accommodations." He grinned wickedly. "This tends to lend itself to a more tolerant nature, you understand."

Giles laughed, and even Angel, having suffered all manner of torture in hell, chuckled. Giles walked forward, extending a hand in Altyron's direction. "Hello, Altyron, welcome to this plane of existence. I have read much about you over the last year. Since I heard the fate that befell young Miss Burkle here with Angel, I have been eager to make your acquaintance."

Altyron accepted the proffered hand, nodding his acceptance of Giles' greeting. "Watcher, I have been keeping an eye on you and your slayers here for a while now. I am very impressed with the work you have done concerning the young Buffy." He turned to Buffy, drawing her back into the conversation. "Your plan last year, and the implementation of it was brilliant. I commend you on an awesome display of power and prowess. I have seen millennia pass and millions of Slayers come and go, but none have matched you." Buffy beamed under the praise, but his next words stopped her grin in its tracks. "Except perhaps the one you call Faith. She is coming in at a close second, these days. Soon will overtake you. I wonder?" He laughed as Buffy turned a speculative eye toward Faith.

He searched the room, scanning faces in search of one particular. Then his eyes settled on a quiet corner, where two men still stared into the night sky. His smile faded as he watched Xander and Andrew share in the grief that this night had refreshed. He excused himself from the crowd and walked over to them. He met Andrew's eyes, and in silent communication requested to speak to Xander alone. Andrew nodded and left the two alone. Altyron laid a gentle, yet strong hand on Xander's shoulder. Xander turned to face him.

Altyron spoke. "I understand how difficult tonight was for you. To see her face again and know she was truly dead. It must have been terrible for you. But you must know what I said was true. Anyanka died a champion. She is one of a precious few demons who discover the joys and sorrows of humanity. The responsibilities and repercussions. She chose it again and defended it with great honor. She holds a place among the hallowed because of this. Do not weep for her."

Xander looked resigned. "I don't need some ancient god-like being to tell me what Anya was. I know. I knew it then, I know it now. It still doesn't make it ok that she is gone. It never will. I'll always miss her, and she was always a champion to me. So thanks but - and no disrespect intended here, guy - no thanks. I'll mourn for her if I so choose. And I'll continue to live without her. It will get easier, and finally the day will come that I won't remember her face, and I'll mourn her all over again. But that is how we humans do it." He looked Altyron in the face, "Thank you for your words, and the attempt. But give me my grief. It keeps me alive." With that he turned and walked away, out of the lobby and up the stairs to the room he had chosen the night before.


	3. The Visit

TITLE: Restoration  
DISCLAIMER: Don't own the characters. Just taking them out to play, as Joss said we could. No infringement is intended.  
RATING: PG-13 for language  
FEEDBACK: Oh of course! Feed the muse; she is always hungry.  
AN: Restoration was supposed to be a three part series. HAH! There will indeed be a fourth part, and it will end. However, there will be a series that follows called _Titans of Spring. _Look for that series to start in about a month.

* * *

The Visit

"Dammit man! There are just too many people in his hotel, and I never thought I'd hear myself say anything resembling that." Gunn walked across the lobby of the hotel noticing the evidence indicative of the number of people that still remained. Angel grinned at him from behind the desk.

"Gunn, man. At least they're friendly. And not brain washed. Oh, yeah, and not dinner. Right?" Angel was remembering the sheer volume of people that flocked to see Jasmine.

"Yeah, guess that's true, man. Though a guy could use some quiet time, you know. All those little Slayers out in the court yard training? Jees, you'd think Buffy would at least let them sleep in past, oh I don't know, 5:30 in the damn morning. I ain't had a good morning's rest since they got here." Gunn flopped down on the couch across from the desk, as Angel nodded.

"I don't mind it so much. But then, I'm up anyway. And believe me when I say it isn't Buffy. She could sleep through an apocalypse if it weren't her sacred duty to stop it. I think it actually may be Kennedy. She's a tough one."

"Yeah? Well, someone needs to tell that girl about decent morning hours. 'Specially when she's under someone else's hospitality."

"I'll be sure to mention that." Buffy spoke up from behind Charles. "Don't know how much good it'll do." She walked across the lobby to join the two men. "Mornin' guys. Sleep well, Charles? Brood well Angel?" She grinned at them both.

"What? I wasn't brooding. Don't do that anymore." Angel jumped to defend himself, then began again grumbling, "not much anyway. I can find some thing to smile about occasionally." At both of their skeptical looks, he said, "Shut up." Buffy and Gunn both broke into laughter.

"God, Angel you are still so much fun to tease! I missed that." Buffy walked over to hug him, shocking him into a standstill. "Hell, I missed everything about you, too, Dead Boy." She said, using Xander's not so friendly nickname. She released him looking around the deserted lobby. "So. Where is everybody? It looks pretty deserted right now, and I know that can't be possible with the number of people we have here."

Angel nodded, looking just a little put out at the company. "Well. Giles, I think is still sleeping. He was out late last night with Wes- I mean Altyron - finding the supplies for Ilyria's ritual. Xander is outside in the garden. Don't know why, but he seems to spend most of his time there. And Andrew is in the kitchen." Angel looked defeated. "Cooking. I think he may even be baking. What is up with that?" Only by sheer force of will did he not shudder.

"And the Slayerettes are all outside training with Kennedy. Where they have been since 5:30 the morning. Did I fail to mention that they started at 5:30 am? I think I missed that." Gunn stated.

"No Charles, I think we got it the first time." Buffy grinned at him. "And I will say something to Kennedy about it. I promise. And Yea at Andrew making with the breakfast munchies. Comin with, Charles?"

"Thanks, Buff." He stood up and began moving toward the kitchen. "Now, I am going to go get some breakfast. It may be early, but a man's gotta eat, ya know."

"Yeah, you two go ahead. I'm not much for the eating right now, later though." Angel started.

"Yeah, big guy. We know, drink your blood and brood. Oops, I mean meditate." Gunn smiled to let him know he was teasing. "Like she said, Angel. You are too easy to tease." He turned back to Buffy. "Come on, let's eat. That little Andrew is a damn good cook. I'm bettin on pancakes."

Angel watched them leave, the smile slipping slowly from his features. The past week loomed over him, darkening his mind and heart. He knew Wesley was back. His brain was quite capable of making that connection. But something still bothered him. There was no way that his Wes would consider surrendering himself in order to let some ancient godlike being - this he thought with considerable sarcasm - share his body. No way. If there was one consistent trait that he could associate with Wes, it was his absolute unwillingness to compromise himself. It's what led to his nearly dying the year before. Why he took Connor, why he saved Angel from the depths of the Pacific, why he fed his own blood to the ravaged vampire. This new situation made no sense to Angel, even though he'd had a week to process - ok, brood - about it. He walked to his office and sat behind the desk. Lost in thought, he failed to notice Wes leaning against the door frame.

Wes observed Angel, noting the stillness in the vampire's frame; a dead giveaway as to the thoughts swirling through his brain. He couldn't help but feel frustrated at Angel's lack of acceptance of what he considered a beneficial relationship. He was alive, despite all occurrences that should have led to the contrary, and he was part of something bigger than himself. A place he had always wanted to be, but never could quite manage successfully. Watcher's Council was a bust, and his tenure as head of Angel Investigations was perhaps one of the most disastrous endeavors he's attempted.

But here was Angel, silently bemoaning the fact that he was alive. It finally served to piss Wesley off.

"Still brooding, Angel?" Wes spoke softly so as not to startle the quiet vampire. Angel looked up into blue eyes he knew so well.

"Hey Wes. No. I wasn't brooding. Just remembering. You." His stilted speech informed Wes of the lie.

"Why remember me? I'm right here." The question hung in the air, Angel taking his time to answer.

He seemed to make a decision and took an unneeded, but fortifying breath. "Honestly Wes? I can't quite wrap my head around you still being here. I mean, you died. Vail killed you. I know this, yet here you are. And everything I know, knew about you suggests that you would never allow this to happen to you. Jesus, Wes, you kidnapped my son! Before you would allow me to kill him - unknowingly, I might add - you took him from me. You knew what that would do to me, to us. But you knew what my feeding off of him would do to me, and you took the lesser evil. You never compromise yourself, Wes. And this?" He motioned at Wes with a wave of his hand. "This is a damn big compromise, Wesley. And I just don't get it." He looked fully at Wes, hard dark eyes meeting compassionate blue ones. "It just isn't you."

Wes smiled. "Well, viewed from that perspective, I can see how you would feel the way you do. But look at it from mine. I knew we - you - were going to lose. I couldn't let that happen." He moved into the office further. "I took Connor not to keep him safe - well there was some of that, but that wasn't my main reason. I did it for you. The prophecy - yes I know now it was fake, but at the time? All I knew, no matter how I sought any other meaning, was 'the father will kill the son.' I knew that would destroy you. I also know that you are the underpinning of this whole thing. Without you, we would all flounder. Especially me." He smiled slightly, almost shyly. "I don't do the things I do because I know I'm right. The reason I don't compromise is not because of some grand belief in my own self-actualization. I do it for you. I'd do anything for you. Even this. Especially this. It was the only way you - we - could win."

Angel stared at him, his face inscrutable. Dark unblinking eyes sat stony above lips set in a thin line of contemplation. Finally, he turned away from Wes, his eyes drifting closed, as though arriving at an understanding. Wes saw the crack in the armor and advanced.

He took a seat on one of the chairs in front of Angel's desk. "Please tell me you understand this now. That you understand this choice, the reasons for it?" He paused. "That you understand me, Angel."

"Yeah." The whispered word floated to Wes' ears. "I think I get it Wes. I don't like it, but I get it."

"Good." Wes smiled broadly at him. "Can I get you to help Giles and myself with Ilyria's ritual, then?"

"You know I'm no good at the magic stuff, Wes. That's what I had you for. You know, I 'm just the, umm, the muscle, ya know?" Angel looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Well, you've your strong points, other than being the muscle Angel. Besides, I imagined that was Gunn's forte?"

"What? Are ya trying to take away my usefulness here, or what, Wes? I said I was the muscle and that is that. I am the resident Vampire, am I not?"

"Let me guess, we're going to forget for the moment that there are several Vampire Slayers in the hotel, now are we? Because, that would put a damper on your claim to be the muscle, you know."

Angel growled. "Shut up, Wes." Then he gave his best impersonation of a grin, meeting Wes' eyes with a smirk. "Yeah, to answer your question, I'll help you with the ritual. Just as long as it doesn't involve blood."

"That is what I love about you Angel. Your complete unqualified willingness to help." Again, the growl, followed closely by Wesley's unbridled laughter.

* * *

Outside the Hyperion, Roger and Trish Burkle stood, anxious about going in. They looked to each other with slightly guilty faces. At the look on his wife's face, Roger stated, "Well, hon, this is the place. What do you think they're gonna say, us being here again? I mean, we should have told them the last time, ya know. It was getting to be about time then."

Trish shrugged. "Roger, I don't know. Fred seemed so different last time we were here. I mean, remember her at the office. You said I shouldn't embarrass her in front of her employees and that she was growing up." She sighed as she turned again towards the door. "I think something happened to our Fred, Roger. Something bad."

"Well. Let's just see if we can't fix that, ok?"

They opened the door and stepped inside. Hearing the laughter coming from Angel's office, they moved in that direction. The sight of Angel looking disgruntled and Was laughing out loud brought a smile to their faces.

"Wes, what have you done to this nice fella, here, huh?" Roger asked the question, startling both creatures out of their own thoughts.

"Ahh, Roger. Trish" Wes stood and greeted them sedately. "Good to see you again." Then he looked askance at them. "Wait. How did you know to come here, and not to Wolfram and Hart offices?"

"Well," Trish answered him. "We started there, but the offices weren't there. Well, I mean, there was a building, or what was once a building, but mostly just ruins now, so we though y'all might have come back to the hotel. Good guess eh?"

"Yes, quite."

"Mr. And Mrs. Burkle." Angel stood finally and greeted them. "It is really good to see you all again, but this really isn't a good time." Angel walked around the front of the desk to perch against it. "Fred is... that is... something happened...and Fred..." He floundered, not knowing how to say what needed to be said.

"Something has happened to Fred." Roger made this statement. "Something that has changed her, right? She's not herself anymore." At Wes and Angel's sad looks, Roger nodded. "We know."

Trish looked to her husband. "I told you we were late last time. But you said, no, the ritual could wait, and that Hawaii wouldn't. Fat lot of good you are Roger."

Wes and Angel both perked up, focused intently on the Burkles. "Late?" "Ritual?" they spoke at the same time, drowning each other out.

Roger forestalled them with a raised hand. "Where is Ilyria?"

Angel and Wes gaped.

"Oh for pete's sake, boys. Close your mouths, you're catching flies!" The two men promptly closed their mouths. Trish looked pleased. "Now, tell us where Ilyria is, so we can talk to Fred."

Wes started to look rather angry, and closed off, so Angel answered. "She's somewhere in the hotel. We can never keep track of her. She's always off investigating things. Kinda creepy, actually."

Roger nodded. "We'll find her then, or she'll find us eventually." He turned to look at Wes. "Now, Wes, don't get all angry. We didn't explain things because we didn't know how you all would react. We thought things were fine the last time we were in L.A. Fred seemed so normal. A bit off, but then she was head of the science lab at a prestigious law firm. We figured it was just growing up and getting responsibilities. We didn't know what had happened." He stepped over to reassure Wes. "I am absolutely positive that you did everything you could to save Fred. Absolutely everything Wes. But you needn't have worried."

"We were told that Fred was consumed in the resurrection. That she - her soul - no longer existed." Wes finally looked up to Roger. "Now? I know this isn't quite the truth, however - And I'll explain it to you later Angel." Wes grinned at Angels ferocious expression. "Without the ritual, Ilyria over took Fred. She isn't there, not yet, so, how in the world do you think you're going to be able to talk to her?"

"Oh." Roger nodded thoughfully. "I see now how you could be so upset." He smiled a little. "Fred is still there. Believe me. Those morons who brought Ilyria back earlier didn't know what the hell they were talking about."

"No. I mean, I know Fred wasn't destroyed, but she isn't here until the ritual is performed." He noticed Roger's admiring glance. "I went through some changes myself." Wes chuckled. Then the transformation that Angel was still freaked out by, but becoming more familiar with, took place.

Tha cobalt eyes shone forth, and took in the Burkles. "Hello. Mr. And Mrs. Burkle, I presume?" Altyron stepped to the couple and greeted them formally. "I am Altyron. I hope it will be a pleasure to meet the parents of one so worthy of my Ilyria."

"Dang, Wes. That is just impressive." Roger stopped himself. "Oh. Sorry. Altyron, not Wes now. My apologies, sir...majesty...How exactly do I address you?"

"Altyron is fine for now. You may worship me later if that is your wish." The glint of humor that shone in the electric blue eyes caught everyone by surprise, as did the unaffected smile of genuine humor.

"Ok, buddy. Chill with the gettin funny." Angel looked seriously confused at Altyron's joking.

"Altyron, then. You mind explaining what is going on? I mean, what happened to Wes? And where is Ilyria?" Trish finally spoke up again. She had liked the young Wesley and wondered at why he had allowed this to happen to him. "Wes seemed to have such a good, if dark and broody, head on his shoulders. He had so much pain inside him. I liked him, though, because he always cared about our little girl."

"Wesley loved Fred, Trish. In the best and brightest possible ways. She was his light, and watching her die destroyed him. He had nothing to live for anymore. So I stepped in, more fully. I have always been here. But I'll explain that later. Let me summon Ilyria for you." Altyron closed his eyes and stilled for a moment. When he opened them again, he smiled. A few seconds later, Ilyria was standing in the door of the office.

"You may be my equal, Altyron, but I come because it suits me, not because of your arrogant summons." Ilyria looked with disdain at the creature who had called to her mind. "What did you want?"

"Ilyria. Do you not recognize Fred's parents?"

She finally acknowledged the Burkles standing there. "Oh yes. Fred's parents. I remember your visit to Wolfram and Hart. It was most informative and oddly pleasant. Wesley was angry with me afterward. He did not understand." Ilyria moved over to the couple who were watching her with awe on their faces. "You should be proud of your offspring. She took the joining well, despite not having the ritual."

Then Ilyria did something completely alien. She knelt at their feet and offered, to Angel's shocked ears, an apology to Fred's parents.

"I ask your forgiveness for not questioning the Qwa'Ha Xahn. The one called Knox said he was my worshipper and guide in this world. He had the ritual marks, carried my sacraments inside him. Had I known he was not the true Qwa'Ha Xahn, I would have removed his entrails with my bare fingers and restrained him with them for daring to interfere in this ancient rite. I am sorry for the torture and death your daughter, my trusted vessel had to endure due to that one's foolish, impatient impudence."

Altyron looked on proudly as Ilyria tried to make the situation right. He took her arm and indicated she should rise. Roger and Trish met her eyes with forgiveness. Roger spoke first. "We know it wasn't your fault, Ilyria. We were prepared, have been for ages, to bring you back into this world. We figured you would help Fred help Angel. You are not to blame for the foolishness of other less reverent acolytes." He smiled quickly. "Of course, you had better be willing to complete the ritual now, yes?"

For the fourth time that day, Angel was shocked. Ilyria laughed sincerely. "Yes. I have brought Fred forth several times, but Wesley is adamant about not doing it. He seems to think I merely wear her as a costume. Fred would never deign to be a costume. She is a powerful presence in this shell." She turned her head to the side. "You have done a great service in rearing such a vessel. I am most appreciative."

Angel, freaked out beyond measure, did the only thing he knew to do: bluster. "Alright! Let's get this show on the road, then, eh? What do we need to do? Any specific time, ingredients, chanting? I got all kinds of books and stuff that should help us out."Altyron, channeling more of Wesley than usual, seemed taken aback by Angel's apparent descent into babble.

Altyron stayed him with a steady stare. "That will not be necessary, Angel. The Burkles have everything in hand, I believe. And Mr. Giles and Wes gathered all the supplies last night, if I am reading Wes' thoughts correctly here. The ritual will be performed tonight, before midnight. Until then, the four of us," he indicated the Burkles, himself, and Ilyria, "are going to reacquaint ourselves." He nodded to Angel. "I suggest you enjoy your day and your company, Angel."

"Right. Umm, you guys enjoy yourselves. Just give us a shout when you are ready, or if you need anything." Angel turned and left the group to themselves.

* * *

Angel crossed the lobby after leaving his office and heard the distinct sound of Docs on the stair case. He grinned.

"Hey Spike. Morning."

"Blood. Give me blood first, conversation later, Angel." Spike moved into the kitchen, followed closely by Angel. They were greeted by the warm sweet smell of pancakes and syrup, and some blood. Andrew looked up at them, silently handing them both a warm mug of O neg, and indicating that they should sit down and enjoy some breakfast. Buffy and Gunn were laughing over their breakfast, and looked up in greeting when the two vampires sat down.

Buffy looked at the plate of pancakes sitting in front of Angel. "Since when do you eat, Angel?

"I've been doing a lot of things I wouldn't normally do, since Spike came back." Angel started on the pancakes.

Spike smiled at his sire. "Yeah, Slayer. Sire and me got a lot of stuff worked out. He hates me, I hate him. He teaches me about the soul thing, I teach him not to be broody. He gets us human blood, I get him to eat human food. All works in the end."

"Ok. And with the mention of human blood at breakfast, I'm definitely done." Gunn rose and put his half eaten breakfast in the sink. "Thanks Andrew, breakfast was great. Buff, remember the Kennedy deal, k? I'll catch y'all later."

As Gunn left, Xander and Giles entered and the three exchanged morning greetings. Xander spoke first. "I smelled breakfast. Knew Andrew had to be at work. Pancakes! Great, I'm starved." He sat down and grabbed a stack of the prepared brekkies.

Giles fixed himself a cup of tea, grateful that Angel at least had some good stuff in the hotel. He forewent the pancakes, however. "Too heavy too early." He apologized to Andrew for not partaking.

"S'ok, Giles. I made you some toast and jam." Andrew set the slight breakfast in front of a grateful Giles, who nodded his thanks. He then gathered his own plate, and sat at the end of the table next to Xander. He smiled as he watched the group eat, thinking he had done something good. Then Andrew addressed the group. "So. The slayers are almost healed, the bad guy defeated, and the gang all assembled. When are we leaving, Giles? Buffy? I mean, we still have so much work to do on the council, and Willow has called since she left a few days ago. We really need to get back. More girls are showing up, now that word has gone out. Not only that, more candidates are turning up for Watcher positions. Who is doing the screening?"

The assembled group had stopped eating when Andrew started. Now they were staring pointedly at nothing. Avoiding the issues he mentioned with no degree of subtlety. Giles was the first to come to his senses. He sighed and nodded. "Yes, I suppose we will have to be getting back, now that the great evil law firm has been defeated." The last said with a touch of Giles humor. Then he took in Angel, Spike and Buffy. "Umm, perhaps before we leave, you three need to ah, well, some issues need to be addressed?"

They all watched the flush creep up Buffy's face. "Yeah, I guess so. Giles. Can I, I mean, we talk about it later. I mean, I assume we'll be staying to help with the joining thingy for Fred, right? Cuz, I mean, leaving in the lurch? So not my thing, is it?" She looked pointedly at Giles.

"Right, then." Giles glared hard at her. "We stay till the weekend, then we absolutely have to get back."

"I don't." This softly whispered from Xander. Buffy and Giles looked at him agog. He noticed their stares and continued calmly. "I don't need to get back. I have no function there. I'm not the muscle, I don't have the brains, or powers that you guys have. You don't need me. I'm staying." He rose and moved to put his plate in the sink. Angel and Spike watched this development with some interest.

Neither of them could figure out why the boy - no, man now - could be feeling like that. Spike especially was taken by surprise. He knew first hand just exactly how necessary Xander was to Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies. He stopped Xander from leaving. "Hey. You're needed, pet. Don't you get it?" He smiled genuinely. "Without you, it all goes to shite. You're the thread that holds that group together. You're why they - we - fight. They'd all be lost to the darkness of the Hellmouth, were it not for you." Spike walked to the young man, grasping his arms as he approached. "Hell, boy! We all would. So don't sell yourself, or your contribution, short, pet." He grinned then. "But, hey, if you don't want to head back to musty old England, or dusty really old Africa, you can always stay with us. Right Angel?"

Angel nodded once.

"Well. I was going to ask if I could do that anyway, Spike." Xander posed the question to Angel through a look. Angel smiled his agreement. "Thanks, man." Xander inclined his head in reply and left the kitchen, saying, "I'll be in the courtyard." Spike followed him with concerned eyes and sighed. "Damn."

No one heard the tiny sound of agony Andrew made as he gathered his dishes and stood. He started planning out loud. "Ok, so we'll be leaving this weekend. Except for Xander. Good to know. I can get everyone ready. I just need to finish the girls' breakfast and I'll start." He started cleaning up the mess from breakfast, while starting on the larger one he knew the girls outside training would need.

Angel addressed Buffy and Giles. "So what, umm, issues need to be worked out?" At the confused looks, he sighed. "Giles. You said that Buffy, Spike, and I had issues that needed to be addressed. What issues? Mystical, hellmouthy issues? Or, and I can't believe I'm asking this, more personal issues?"

"Oh. Well, personal. But it is between you three. I have very little to do with it." Giles answered while taking a sip of his very delicious tea. He closed his eyes in enjoyment. "This is very good tea, Angel."

"It's Spike's." Angel clarified. He noticed that Giles had said "very little" and not "nothing." He watched the man carefully. Then glanced at Spike, who had moved to stand slightly behind Buffy. Sire and childe communicated without words. Spike scented the air around Buffy, as Angel did the same around the Watcher. Neither noticed the investigation of their persons. The vampires reached the same conclusion. Buffy had moved on. The discussion wouldn't be necessary for them, but they knew it would be for her. Spike spoke to her. "Well, come on, Slayer, let's you, me, and the Sire have it out shall we?"

She couldn't prevent the seeking glance at Giles. He subtly shook his head no, indicating she would be on her own. She took a fortifying breath and addressed the two vampires. "Alright. I guess this needs to be done, then."

* * *

Spike and Angel sat stunned into silence. Both looked at Buffy like she had sprouted horns and goat legs.

"Married?" Angel was the first to break the tension in the room.

"Slayer, you're married?" Spike followed shortly thereafter.

"But what about being cookie dough, and baking? And to the Immortal no less?" Angel snorted. "Rotten bastard."

Spike finally smiled at her, a genuine smile and Buffy was relieved.

"Congrats, Slayer. Finally found the one that gets you, all of you, so to speak." He walked over to her and lifted her bodily out of the chair she was in. Buffy squeaked when Spike grabbed her in a tight hug. "Good on you, Buffy. If that silly git the Immortal does anythin to hurt you, you just let me know. Me an' Angel'll kick his sorry ass all the way to hell."

"Right," she laughed. "He knew you were in Italy, and well," she looked a little sheepish. "Well, we thought it was funny, playin you two. He likes you two, really. You're fun to pick on." She grinned evilly. "Especially together."

"Hey! Spike and I are not together. We're not." Angel finally contributed, pulling out of his shock. "Buffy." He said quietly, rising from his chair and walking over to her. "If you really are happy, then I'm happy for you." He folded his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. "And everything Spike said goes double for me. He hurts you, we'll find a way to kill him." He pulled back from her.

"At least she ain't shaggin Giles, eh, Angel."

"What? You thought! No. How could you think that?"

"Well, his scent is all over you, and yours on him. What's a vamp to think, Slayer?"

Angel rolled his eyes at Spike's tactlessness.

"That I train with the man? We fight together? He's like a Dad to me, and we might occasionally share a hug? You freak!"

"Right! Got it now. Calm down, Buffy."

"Oh, Spike I could so kick your ass right now." She turned to Angel. "Oh god, he is such a pig. How do you put up with it?"

"I thought it too, Buffy. Was going to ask," he shot a perturbed look to Spike, "delicately if you and Giles were, you know? Together? But Spike, as usual has beaten me to it, and in a most ignoble way. I'll cuff him for you later."

Buffy smiled in such an evil way that both Spike and Angel began to fear her. "Whatchya gonna cuff him to, and can I watch? I have oil."

* * *

The quiet summer day settled over the hotel, creating a tranquil idyll in the middle of the bustling city. As the afternoon passed, the inhabitants of the hotel carried on about their day. The Slayers continued training, coming inside to study weapons, even sparring with Gunn and Angel, who took to the role of teacher easily. Xander busied himself in the courtyard, clearing out dead bushes, fixing the fountain and generally creating a beautiful space. Andrew finished in the kitchen, clearing out the detritus of breakfast. Then he started to pack everyone up for the trip back to England. No one really noticed his misery. Buffy and Spike enjoyed some quiet time in front of the television, occasionally teasing each other about their soaps. Altyron, Ilyria and the Burkles became acquainted, discussing Fred, the ritual, and the Burkle's home in Texas. And Giles, as always, was researching the ritual he and Wes would perform to join Fred and Ilyria permanently.

"Ahh, here it is. I knew this was the case. Had seen it before." Giles rose from his seat at Wes' desk to cross over to Angel's office.

"Excuse me, I didn't realize you had guests, Altyron. I apologize for interrupting, but I really need to speak to Wesley."

"Certainly, Mr. Giles. He'll be right in."

"Ah, good, then." Giles walked back over to Wes' office and sat down again, rereading the passages in front of him.

"Did you find something new, Giles?" Wes took a seat across the desk from Giles.

"Hmmm?" he looked up. "Oh. Yes, as a matter of fact, it was something I ran across in my previous research when Angel first called me about Fred's illness." He met Wes' eyes in apology. "Though we couldn't help you then, I did want to find out all I could about the situation. Just in case, you see."

Wes nodded. "It's quite alright, Giles. We were devastated, and I still miss Fred, but we know more now. And frankly, Ilyria has grown on me." He laughed, and this encouraged Giles to smile.

"Right, I can see how that would happen. Fred must have indeed been a beautiful girl. I'm sorry for your loss." He accepted Wes' nodded assurances. "Ok. Here is what I've found out. Well, no. Let's start at the beginning."

"By all means, let's."

"Cheeky bugger." Giles grinned. "Well, it seems that both Atryon and Ilyria are of the same race of beings? You knew that, though so that is nothing new. However, you probably didn't know that they also had a race of - for lack of a better term - stewards."

"Yes. The Bha' ra Cahl. I have Altyron inside my head, Giles. He would know of his stewards, I think."

"Right. Well. This is getting to the parts that you don't know. What was your mother's last name, Wesley?"

"Giles, you very well know that. My mother's name was Camilla Barclay."

"Ok. And Fred's parents' last name?"

"Burkle, of course."

"Wes. You're a Watcher. An educated man, well versed in languages and history. Think man." Come on, put it together, Wes.

Wes frowned in concentration. Thoughts raced behind his eyes, as his brain made the connections. "Oh my god. Barclay, Burkle. And with the American tendency to bastardize European names..." Realization dawned in Wes' sapphire eyes. "You're telling me that my mother and the Burkle's are descendants of this race of stewards." Not a question.

"Yes. Here comes the kicker. When do you first remember encountering Altyron's presence?"

"After Justine slit my throat, and I lay there dying. He came to me, urging me to live, and finally, I think took over so I would."

Giles nodded solemnly. "Well, that wasn't the first time. Think harder."

Wes shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about Giles."

"You were young, barely into grammar school. Your father locked you in the stairwell closet..." Giles prompted the memories.

"The first time. Oh god. I remember the first time. I had got my Latin conjugations wrong. Father said that wouldn't do, that I needed to sit and think about my error. Away from distractions, he told me. He lock me... He locked me in the stairwell. So dark. I was so scared. I couldn't breath...so terrified of small spaces... I think ..no I remember passing out. And light. A bright bluewhite light. I thought someone had opened the door but no. I watched the light come to me. God how can I remember this! I was unconscious! And it spoke to me...asked me to let it in. It was so warm, comforting. So, of course I said yes. I said yes. Yes. Oh dear lord."

"Well, that is something I should be saying now, isn't it?" Giles's smile offered comfort and sympathy to the younger man, shuddering in awful memories. "So, now you know the truth of the matter. At least about you and Altyron. And why I couldn't say anything to you about your destiny? You had already fulfilled it."

"I was only 10 though. How can a ten year old boy fulfill a man's destiny?"

"By making a choice, Wesley. Power is in the choices we make."

"So. This is who I'm supposed to be?"

"No. It's simply who you are, and always have been. He came to you through your mother. Just as Ilyria came to Fred through her father."

"So why does Ilyria need to perform the ritual joining? And I didn't."

"You made the choice to accept him, even though you didn't know what you were accepting, you still made the choice to do so. The joining was wanted. Fred never had that choice. We need to give her that opportunity. The ritual brings her back to the fore, we ask her to make the choice, and then we say the joining words. That part is the simple. It is the calling Fred to the fore that may prove difficult."

"Why? Ilyria has agreed to let her forward. Why would it be difficult?"

"Ahh, well, I was unaware of Ilyria's consent." Giles frowned in concentration. "Let us hope she remains consensual or Fred could be lost forever." He heard a crinkling sound, like tissue paper being wadded into a ball. When he looked up in question, Altyron stared back at him through cobalt eyes.

"She will do as she is told, Mr. Giles. I taught her, loved her. I made her what she is and she will obey."

"I thought I was talking to Wesley." Giles was just a little frightened by the coldness of Altyron's voice.

"I was listening. His distress called me out. I don't like Wesley distressed, Mr. Giles." He cocked his head to one side. "And you distressed him twice in this conversation. Once too many, as the first time was necessary." He rose. "Ilyria will perform the ritual, because I tell her to. Fred will be rejoined with her, and will have as much control over Ilyria as Wesley has over me. And Ilyria will protect her just as I protect him."

Giles watched as Altyron turned to leave the office. "Now, I have guests that I have left alone too long. You prepare for the ritual. We will see you before midnight."


	4. Better Together

Title: Restoration 4: Better Together

The sun set low in the California sky. It hung there on the horizon like a huge red atomic bomb, just waiting to obliterate all it encompasses, before sinking harmlessly down below the ocean line. Angel watched from his place next to the window. Careful to avoid the last red shining rays, which would burn just like white, he stood deep in thought about the coming night. Fred would be back, or so everyone thought. Buffy would leave - yet again and wasn't that how their entire lives would play out? Coming together in brief moments, only to separate again when the catastrophe was over. He sighed. He figured he would have moved on by now, but again the nature of his unlife hit him. Demons don't change.

Fuck, that wasn't true either. Demons can and absolutely do change. Jesus, Spike is proof enough of that fact. Angel felt the low rumble in his chest before he registered the feeling behind it. Dammit, if his childe could change, then why the hell was he still mooning over some teenaged - well not so much anymore - crush?

Sure he loved Buffy. Absolutely, no doubt about it. And he was positive that she loved him as well. But she also loved Spike. She loved Giles. Hell, she even loved Xander, god only knows why. But Buffy's love is like all mortal's love: malleable, impermanent, ever changing. And his? Constant, like the tides. She will always be the seventeen year old virgin who had surrendered herself so willingly to his advanced years and experience. It was that innocence he had loved about her, and being what he was, he had taken it from her.

And now? The world weary woman who had taken her place held no appeal for him. He was world weary enough, cynical enough, hardened enough to know that two such entities cannot occupy the same space. The fallout would destroy everyone around them. So, he would fare her a final goodbye, give her a final kiss, when the ritual was complete. He sighed an unnecessary breath.

"You know, tosser, the world don't revolve around you, right?"

"Yeah. I know."

"Mmhmm. So what are ya doin broodin in front of the window? Looking to get yourself toasty? Have aspirations of fitting into an ashtray? Cuz, honestly, I'd love to help with that. In any way possible."

"Spike. I don't expect you to understand." Angel moved away from the window to settle on the bed.

"Good, because - again, in all honesty - I really don't care what has you so mopey." Spike abandoned he perch against Angel's door, and moved to stand in the center of the room. "We have things to do this night, things more important than your "woe is me" routine. So get your head outta your ass, peaches, and let's get this show on the road."

"Spike. Wait. Don't you ever wonder?"

"Wonder what?"

"Don't you wonder why everything about them is so impermanent? They make their minds up one day, change them the next. Love truly one moment, then brotherly the next? Why can't they just stay the same?" He looked in genuine question at Spike, seeking the answers from the one demon who understood humanity better than anyone else he had ever met.

Spike paused for a moment, sensing the seriousness of the question from his Sire. The quick retort died on his lips and he settled next to Angel on the edge of the bed. "Because they don't have forever, Angel. They can't take the time to really relish, no, savor anything new. Nature, time, instinct is telling them time is running out, and they have to know it all before they die. We don't have that urge. Time knows no bound for us." He sighed. "And there is the crux of our problem ain't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well. We're demons, Angel. She's not. We can love her all we want, but it weren't never meant to be. We are timeless and all she has are moments."

"But she married the Immortal!"

Spike laughed. "Well, I never said she weren't a daft bint, did I. Just laying it out like I see it. She's fighting that calling of time. She's clinging to a notion that she'll live forever, and for all we know, she might. I mean, she's been brought back from the dead twice." He shook himself. "Anyway the point is this: she will always move on, and this is the key here, until she dies. We don't die, Angel. Why move on? Oh I mean, we do. We change, we even grow, I like to think. But we take our sweet time about it don't we?"

Angel grinned. "Yeah, I guess we do." He turned to really look at Spike, almost as though seeing him for the first time. "I knew there was a reason I let Dru turn you. Too damn smart to let you get away, wasn't I?"

"Sorry? Let her turn me? Let her murder me's more like." Spike raised his hand before Angel could defend himself. " 'S alright, pillock. I like bein' a demon. Even with this soul. I even like that it was you what made me a proper one. And as much as I love this Sire/Childe bonding moment, we have things that need to be done."

"Yeah, I guess so." They rose to leave the bedroom. "Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Anytime, gramps. You just let me know when you need your head straightened out. I'll try not to twist it loose."

Giles finally found Buffy sitting outside watching as Xander worked in the courtyard. He thought about letting her have the moment of respite, but he was curious. The combination of Angel and Spike intrigued him. There was a aura about the two of them that he had never witnessed in them separately. His watcher instincts were clawing at him to write down the observations, but he had promised Spike he wouldn't do that sort of thing. Dammit. Those two together, finally, could provide a wealth of information for the Council. He sighed. What a waste of a perfectly good opportunity.

He resigned himself to questioning Buffy. "So. How did it go? Did they take it well?"

Buffy, not quite startled out of her reverie, but still surprised enough to look quickly up at Giles' question, grinned when she remembered the discussion in question. "Oh, no. They took it like I thought they would. Mort really is a thorn in their side. It was funny." She laughed outright for a second or two, causing Giles to look askance at her.

"Dare I ask what garners such a chuckle from my - lately - usually stoic Slayer?"

"Oh sure. You can dare, but I don't think you'll like the answer." What can only be described as a look of pure mischievousness settled on Buffy's gamine features.

"Well. I'm certain to like the wondering even less, so out with it. What was so funny." Giles prepared for the worst.

"Umm. Spike? Well, he sort of thought you..and ...I...were... you know...involved. Intimately."

This was by far worse than the worst Giles himself could conjure. "I'm sorry?" He reached up to remove and clean his glasses, but floundered when he realized he didn't have them on. "Spike thought what?"

"Oh! It wasn't just Spike. Apparently, you smell like me and I smell like you, so they both thought we were doing it!." Buffy couldn't hold the laughter in any longer. Her peals of amusement eventually had Giles smiling, despite his mortification at the conclusion the two vampires had drawn.

"Hmm. I suppose you and I will have to stop training together then. Can't have you smelling like me, now can we?" He laughed outright. "Good lord. The things those two come up with. I swear Buffy, that sort of thing makes me forget my promise not to treat them like case studies."

Giles watched as Xander, who had obviously heard the laughter ambled over to them. "Hey Giles, Buff. What's so funny?"

"Spike and Angel apparently have concluded that Buffy and I are in fact sleeping together."

"What?" Xander looked incredulous. "No way. You're joking right? Buffy, he's joking, right?"

"Fraid not, Xan. Spike and Angel thought I was doing the deed with Giles! Oh god, it's just so damn funny."

Xander began to laugh as well. "Well. I had figured Spike smart enough to not make that sort of assumption, but Angel ain't never had the brains of the outfit, ya know. You and Giles? God, where did they get that from?"

Buffy answered between guffaws. "We...smelled...like each other. Smelled! Oh God!"

"Hmm, ok, can I just say 'eeewwww'? I knew there was a reason I hated vampire senses. That is just creepy."

Giles finally began to take a little offense at the laughter that seemed to be at his expense. "I'll have you two know that I am still considered quite a catch, you know. What is so repulsive about the idea of Buffy and I together?"

Xander decided he'd better be the one to answer Giles, because Buffy still appeared incapable of speech. "Ummm G-man? You and Buffy would be almost incestuous, ya know?"

"What? How so?"

"Well, she's like a daughter to you. And God knows you've been a better father to her than her own. Hell you've been a better father to all of us than our natural ones. You and Buff together is just a little too hillbilly, backwater for me to contemplate seriously."

Xander's assessment of Giles' feeling, as well as the rest of the gang's, silenced - finally - Buffy's uncontrollable laughter. She looked with wide wet green eyes at Giles. "You think of me like a daughter?"

"Er, yes. Well. Xander has made a considerable point. I suppose it would be rather inappropriate for us to be involved, as I have been responsible for you for some years now." Giles began his usual hem-haw routine, but Buffy stopped him with a pointed look.

"Answer me, Giles. Please. Do you consider me a daughter?"

Giles smiled. He could hide his paternal feelings no longer. He thought sure she had known, but faced with her doubt now, he understood that she never even considered it. He took her into his arms, embracing her with a warmth and familiarity that he had always been afraid to show her, except when she came back from the grave nearly two years before.

"Yes. You are the daughter I never had. I tried so hard to remain impartial, like a good Watcher. But Quentin was right. I have had a father's love for you since before your 18th birthday. I can't believe you didn't know that." He looked over at Xander, who was looking a little sheepish. "And thank you, Xander for finally putting it so succinctly."

"Well. I guess Dawn was right then. About my super power. Buffy's the Slayer; Giles, you're Knowledge Guy, Willow's Magic girl, Spike is, well, he's a vampire. And me? I'm Vision guy. I see the things no one else does. But honestly, I thought it was totally obvious, Giles. Thought sure it wouldn't be news to Buffy."

Buffy nodded. "Well. I had a feeling. You know. A daughter always wants her father to love her." She paused just long enough to let that sink in. "But you never said anything, so I had no idea if you did or not. I hoped, I prayed, even tried to believe, but I guess I did need to hear it from you." Giles heard her sniffle loudly and chuckled. She turned her face up to frown at him. "God. I feel so stupid. I'm a grown, married woman Giles. And here I am, still needing daddy to say he loves me. How pathetic."

"We all need the reassurances, Buffy. Don't worry about it." He finally released her, setting her an arm's length away from him. "But as I am so very British, I do believe there has been enough of the feeling things, don't you?" His tone mocked the words, and Buffy responded in kind.

"Oh yes. Quite right, stiff upper lip and all that, ho."

Xander just grinned. "You guys are funny. Now. Get outta my courtyard."

"Your courtyard? Angel might have something to say about that, ya know." Buffy commented on her way back into the hotel.

"Nah. He likes what I'm doin out here. Go on, get back inside and leave me to my work."

"Alright. Have a good time, Xander." She blew him a joking kiss.

"Right back atchya babe!"

Somewhere upstairs, Andrew sat alone. He'd packed for the trip back to England, and had nothing to do, so he sat and thought. His place in the circle of the slayer was solid, he knew that when they sent him to pick up Dana. Poor girl. Still so screwed up. Thankfully she was getting better, but it was going to be a long time till she was well.

So. He was going to have to go back to England alone. Again. He'd been so happy to be spending time with Xander this past week, helping him with the work on the courtyard - even if it was just moving stuff and handing Xander tools. He'd felt needed and the conversations they'd had? Well, yeah, they were all about Anya and the final battle with the first, but there had been some real bonding. Now Xander was going to stay in L.A.

Andrew couldn't. He had responsibilities to the Council that he couldn't ignore. Damn. He sighed heavily. Well. He'd been alone for a long time, he could do it for as long as he needed. Besides, he knew there was nothing in England for Xander. The man had found a quiet kind of peace in Africa that still had not left him. Andrew was glad to see it, and in point of fact it was the thing that had drawn him to Xander in the first place. That calm quiet that he now, almost always, exuded. He'd miss that, of all the things he'd miss about Xander, that calm settling presence he would miss the most.

"I know you hear me Kennedy. Damn girl! You always gotta be so damn stubborn? Jesus!"

"What? I hear ya, I just don't care. These girls have a routine, and just because you and your little team here can't deal with an apocalypse by yourselves, doesn't mean I'm going to disrupt their routine! So, just freakin deal, Gunn." Kennedy continued her stalking pace across the lobby into the courtyard where Xander was pulling out the dead rose bushes and planting nightblooming jasmine.

"Oh, hey guys." He looked up from work to address Kennedy and Charles. "Ah. He finally gettin on you about the 5 am wake up drills, Kennedy?"

"Yeah. What? Doesn't Angel have some sort of training regimen here? I'd have thought we'd be the late ones. But no. Charles here is still beauty sleepin at 5 am." She shuddered.

"Hey! You think it's easy to look this good? No. It does indeed require the recommended 8 hours a night."

"Ugh. Again? Get over it." She dismissed him with a roll of her eyes.

Charles fumed and stomped up to her, getting in Kennedy's face menacingly. He had to bite back a grin at her automatic flinching away from him. "No girly. You listen. You are a guest here. You are here because Angel says you can stay. What he didn't say was that you could disrupt _our _routine with your pseudo military schedule. In other words, you get over it." He stepped away from her calmly, establishing his superiority, or at least his authority in this place.

"I don't want to hear those girls, or your mouth, before 7:30 am again? You got it?"

Kennedy looked ready to argue some more, but Xander stepped up. "Kennedy, Charles is right. Chill with the schedule and let people sleep. This isn't Council headquarters. There isn't a place soundproofed enough for you to be training at 5 in the morning. 7:30 is a decent compromise."

She squinted her eyes at Charles and grunted an "alright" before stomping off toward the hotel again.

"Jesus. She always like that?" Gunn whistled his amazement.

"Hmm. No." Xander grinned at Charles' relieved expression. "She's usually much worse."

"Oh, damn. Well, thanks, Xander. For chillin her out."

Another grin slipped onto Xander's face. "I wouldn't thank me yet, Charles. You're in for it later. What ever compromise Kennedy has to make in one area, she makes up for in another."

"Ahh, shit."

Xander laughed outright. "Yup. My sentiments exactly." He turned serious again. "So when do ya think the ritual's gonna go down? And are we invited?"

"Got no clue, except it's supposed to happen before midnight. And no. None of us minions are invited. Just the big men, um or women, are going to be participating. Should be an interesting turn of events, though." Charles let out a deep breath, one he felt like he'd been holding for a month at least. "I just can't wait to have Fred back. Sure, Ilyria can grow on ya, but dammit. I really miss Fred."

"You loved her." Xander didn't ask, he could read the feeling in Charles' face and tone.

"More than my own life. More than my own goodness. But not more than my own mind, apparently. One slip of my faculties, and bam! I sold her down the river. What kind of man does that make me?"

"Human. Frail. Stupid. And so wanting to have a place. Basically? Just a man, Charles."

Charles looked at Xander, really looked at him, as though for the first time. "What is it about you, Xander? You always know just what to say, how to say it, and when."

"Dawn once said it's my power, to see things. Don't know how much I agree with that right now, though. I just think with all the strange stuff that happens in our lives, some normalcy is always welcome. We all need the simple, Charles. I guess my power is to see the simple, to see the solution without seeing the problem? Plus? I've lived on the Hellmouth all my life. I staked the vampire that was my best friend, saved the world from the crazy uber witch that was - again - my best friend, loved a former vengeance demon who later regained her powers, and I loved her still. Saved the Slayer twice, once when no one else could, and again when she didn't need it. Truth? Is just another freaky thing that shouldn't be feared."

"Damn."

"Yeah." Xander turned back to his pruning, and Charles, knowing he'd been casually, but not thoughtlessly, dismissed returned to the lobby of the hotel.

The night darkened slowly, the blackness becoming rich with the sounds of nocturnal life in L.A. Angel stood in front of the doors to the pool room. He hadn't been in this room in a very long time. Not since before Cordy turned into a demon to keep the visions from killing her. He knew that Giles, Wes, and the Burkles had set up the ritual components and was fearful of disturbing them, so he waited until everyone had assembled before he opened the doors.

Giles and Wes came out of Wesley's office with the Burkles and Ilyria. The humans looked pleasantly eager to have done with the ritual, while Ilyria simply looked as she always did. Inscrutable. Sometimes she and Angel could be a matched pair.

Spike stomped loudly down the stairs, his boots leaving scuff marks where he deliberately dragged his feet to piss Angel off. Angel just grinned. His childe could be so predictable. Angel watched as Spike and Buffy met at the foot of the stairs and made their way silently over to the gathering.

Gathered in the lobby, Charles, Xander, and Kennedy and some of the newer slayers all watched as the others met at the large double doors. "Guess this is it, eh, guys?" Xander asked the two he was standing with.

"Yup." Kennedy nodded quickly.

"I guess. I hope they know what they're doing." Gunn still sounded wary of the ritual.

"Don't worry, Charles. Giles knows what he's doin. Besides, Altyron? He seems to know what's what. Even if he is of the primordium." Xander looked toward the stairs thoughtfully. "Call me when they're done. I got something I need to do." And he headed up stairs.

"Alright, Watchers. Ready to get this show on the road?" Angel rolled his eyes at Spike's impertinence.

"Um, well. Yes. Quite." Wesley smiled, then he just shifted, and Altyon stood before them. "I believe we can start now. We wait any longer and it will be too late." He raised his hand, indicating that they all enter the room.

Charles and Kennedy watched as the doors shut behind the group.

Giles took a good look around the room, noting the placement of the ritual accouterments and ensuring the formation of the circle was correct. "Alright. Everything seems to be in order here."

He glanced to Ilyria. "Umm, Ilyria, I believe you need to be here, in the center of the circle. As the ritual begins you'll feel a rush of energy and you need to be in the center to catch all of it as the ritual requires."

"I know the placement, human. I was the power that was channeled. I have not forgotten where the vessel needs to be. Your attempts to reassure me fall as ash. Completely useless and irritating."

"Yes, be that as it may. You need to be here." Giles stated resolutely.

Spike laughed. "Oh, Blue. Suck it up, eh? This will be over in a jiff."

"You mock me, vampire? I am to lose my control over the shell-"

"Don't call her that, dammit!" Wes' voice called out of Altyron's mouth, who frowned deeply, trying to restrict Wes' access to his body. "Oh yes. This is why I chose him. So strong, but sometimes so rash." He turned a cobalt eye on Ilyria. "You'll do as you're told, godling. Or I'll remove you from this plane just as surely as I did the wolf, ram and hart." His eyes shown bright, lighting the dim room with their power, and Wes could again be heard, despite Altryon's control over the body. "Ilyria, you promised. Does a God King renege on promises?"

Ilyria settled again into some semblance of calm detachment. "Yes, Wesley. I did promise. I'll submit to this abomination to my presence. But I do it because it pleases me to do so. Fred," she emphasized her use of Fred's name over 'shell', "will be returned to you this night."

"Thank you." Was whispered and retreated again to within the strong presence of Altyron. "Strange, Ilyria that my threats do not persuade you, but the simple question from my human host has you bending to his will."

"He but has to ask, Altyron. You? Demand too much."

Angel, Giles and Buffy had been silent through out the display. Watching with casual awareness what would happen. Roger and Trish Burkle smiled at the display of tempers. When things had calmed down, Giles continued with the placements.

"Angel? Spike? You'll be here, at the head of the circle, north, the location of propriety. Buffy, you just to his left, east. Roger and Trish? You two will stand as one, the inquirers' position to the south, and I'll be the west. Altyron? You will be inside the circle with Ilyria. You are the guide. Your presence will draw Fred as a beacon of light." After letting Altyron pass into the circle, Giles closed it with his presence and an incantation.

"Now. Let's get started shall we?"

Xander stood outside Andrew's room for a minute or two before he tentatively knocked. When the door didn't open for a few minutes, he turned to head back down stairs. Then the tiny sound of a lock being turned had him turning back around to the door, watching as it opened.

Andrew, looking for all the world like someone killed his dog, looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Umm, hey Andrew." Xander just stood for a minute, until Andrew asked, "What do you want Xander?"

Xander smiled. He faced the younger man fully and stepped up to the door. "I want to come in."

Andrew's eyes opened wide as he pushed the door open to allow Xander in. "Ok."

"Holy fuck!" Charles shouted when the blue light that crept through the cracks in the doors threatened to burst them.

"What the hell is that?" Kennedy asked, truly frightened for the first time since arriving in L.A.

Suddenly, the light died down and a thunderous crash sounded behind the doors, then they swung open and the occupants of the room came flooding out, covered in some thick blue slime.

Buffy and Giles came out first. Buffy making her patented "ewww" face and screaming for a shower. Giles walked out calmly, the blue gunk dripping from his brow. He quietly headed up stairs, presumably to shower.

Angel came out next. He looked aggrieved, as Spike followed behind him grinning from ear to ear. Spike stepped up in front of Angel and smiling, slowly swiped a finger down Angel's cheek. "Mmmm, sweet, Peaches. Like blueberries."

"Get off me, Spike." Angel groused. But he echoed the gesture on Spike's face, sucking the sweet off his finger and smiling.

They stared for a moment at each other, then laughed easily.

Roger and Trish emerged looking a little shell shocked, but well pleased. They turned when they heard Wes ask, "But did it have to be blueberry?"

Fred's sweet voice laughed out from the room. "But Wesley? I'm blue! What else could you expect?"

Everyone gathered back in the lobby after cleaning up. Charles, Angel and Wes all sat huddled around Fred. Their love for her evident to even the most casual observer. That they had missed the sweet Texan was also obvious. Kennedy smiled as she watched the group, and turned to address Fred's parents.

"Must be nice having your daughter back, right?"

Roger answered with s grin. "Oh, she wasn't ever really gone, not to us, but yeah. To see her and know that it's her and not an act Ilyria's puttin on? Yeah. That's nice."

Xander and Andrew made their way back downstairs and joined Kennedy to watch the small group get reacquainted with one of their lost. There was a wistfulness in Xander's eye, but none of the pain that had been there the previous week. Andrew patted him on his shoulder, offering a smile of solidarity.

Buffy and Giles, both finally scrubbed clean of the blueberry goo, game back downstairs. They were talking quietly to each other, Buffy looking grim and Giles at his most serious. Xander called out to them, catching everyone's attention. "Ok. What's with the faces you two? The ritual worked, Fred's back and things are good. Why so grim?"

"Well," Giles began, "it seems that there is a reason, other than the battle with Wolfram & Hart, that Altyron has decided to present himself. Also, the predetermination of Ilyria's rising had a, for lack of a better word, prerequisite."

Angel turned a confused eye to Giles, saying, "Ok. So, it, Ilyria's rising, was preordained based on certain events happening?" At Giles' nod he asked, "So what happened?"

"I don't know if you're aware of what has been happening outside America, or even, considering recent events, outside L.A. But the world is in chaos. Massive earthquakes, fires, volcanic eruptions, and tidal waves are taking devastating tolls over the world. Nothing apocalyptic, at least not by our standards, but still, a little too frequently to be entirely natural."

"Alright. So what does it mean?"

"Just that someone or something is doing these things, and at the complete randomness of the disasters, this entity doesn't really have an agenda."

"Ok. That sounds bad." Spike finally spoke up. Just then, the air in the lobby turned thick, heavy with the scent of ozone. A silent concussion of the atmosphere had Willow standing before them, looking harried. "Umm, guys? We have a serious problem. And by 'we'? I mean everybody."

Wes and Fred, who until now had been seated, rose together and stepped up behind Angel. Their features shifted together, and Ilyria looked over at Altyron who finally spoke.

"It appears, Angel, that Ghybranach is bored."


End file.
